Chrysalis
by quixotomy
Summary: AU From enemies to friends to lovers; for Ichigo, it was something he never expected to happen with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. They collide time and time again, but their relationship strains under secrets, violence, and the threat of death.
1. overture: a prologue of sorts

Hello there. This is not my first story, in the Bleach fandom or anywhere else. But I am only human, and everyone makes mistakes. If you spot something I did wrong, or have any comments or _constructive _criticism, they are gladly accepted and considered.

**SUMMARY:** Ichigo and Grimmjow were enemies when they were young. They are enemies at high school. But through revelations about themselves and each other they grow closer, until they fall in love. A tale of hatred turning to friendship turning to love, two people that seem to collide time and time again even though hatred and violence force them apart, and something that never quite dies, no matter how hard people try to kill it.

**WARNINGS:** Alternate Universe, possible OOC, yaoi/slash, violence, swearing, guns, graphic drug abuse and graphic sex between two men (but that's much later), very long and slow development of the relationship between the two main characters. Which means no romance or sex or even friendship between them for a while.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Bleach, the lyrics to any songs I use in this story, and I am making absolutely no money from this. All material sourced belongs to its respective owner; I am only borrowing it.

**DEDICATION:** This story is **dedicated to every single Grimmjow/Ichigo writer and supporter out there in the world,** wherever you are, whatever website you use. Thank you to all of you endless writers, who have in turn inspired, annoyed, educated, infuriated and entertained me for hours and hours on end. You sometimes make me despair but you also give me hope. Where would I be without you?

**ALSO:** I would like to give an extra-special thank you to angstymcgoth, who was my editor and helpful friend during the earlier stages of this work. Without her, my story would have been a pile of crap. She molded it into what it is now. BUT - an even bigger thank you to Mistress Penelopye, someone whose works you have probably already read here. If not, go read them. She is an absolute star, and without her support and encouragement I could not have done as much as I did. Thank you forever, Penny.

OK, now that's out the way. Here we go - I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I do.

* * *

**o****ver****ture** _noun_

1. an opening or initiating move toward negotiations, a new relationship, an agreement, etc.; a formal or informal proposal or offer: _overtures of peace; a shy man who rarely made overtures of friendship._

2._ Music. _

a. an orchestral composition forming the prelude or introduction to an opera, oratorio, etc.

b. an independent piece of similar character.

3. an introductory part, as of a poem; prelude; prologue.

* * *

I suppose I should tell you the details of when and where exactly it started. And when I say _started,_ I mean that this is where my relationship with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques changes from us being childhood enemies into something a lot more...complicated.

It's not like I saw it happening. It's not like I _meant _for it to happen. The strangest things change you in the strangest ways, and most of the time it's when you're not looking - and then you turn your head and you look at yourself in the past and it hits you like a smack to the face, when you see how much you've grown up, how much the people around you have changed. It's slow and unnoticeable, that maturity, but when you add it all up it's kind of frightening how much you grow in just a few years.

And it's pretty much the same with feelings, right? You don't take them out of a box and measure them and compare them every month or whatever, you only see what's happened to them when someone points out to you that they've turned into something else. Your feelings towards someone can change in an instant, or they can change as slowly as a tree turns into oil. It happens like...it happens like a plant growing. Or like a flower turning into, I dunno, a fruit or something.

But maybe I'm not making myself clear. I've never been very good at explaining things, not like Ishida. Maybe I'll just tell you the story and you can see for yourself how it happened.

Yeah, let's do that.

* * *

_**My education was dismal. I went to a series of schools for mentally disturbed teachers ~ **_**Woody Allen**

* * *

_Chrysalis: First Act (High School)_

_Overture: Freshman Year_

So let's just say my entrance into High School was suitably dramatic. Me and Chad, we burst through the sign posting the class registers and we take down at least half a dozen annoying wannabe gangsters. It didn't take ten minutes. It was a bracing start to the day, let alone the school year, but that scene alone secured our reputation, let me tell you. It set the tone for the beginning of my time Karakura High School. Instantly I was bad news: I was a gangster, a punk, a no-good layabout that lived to pick fights and menace society. People couldn't look me in the eye for weeks without seeming like they were gonna wet themselves.

But it was cool. I was used to it, even if it did piss me off. I'd been ostracized all my life. It was nothing new.

So Chad and I were prepared to be avoided, stared at suspiciously, gossiped about; I thought it was gonna be like middle school all over again. I braced myself for it. I _expected_ it. And then, somehow-

It really started with Arisawa Tatsuki. It was a shock to see her again, after all those years, to see how much she had grown up, grown stronger, taller, prettier. We'd met when we were four years old and had been friends for a long time, until my mother died. And then we drifted apart - I went to an upper-class private military academy my dad used to teach at, and she stayed in Karakura. I had considered her my best friend when we were young, and she was the one person I wanted to beat most at karate. That was my dream, for the longest time. To beat her at karate, and to stop the teasing at school. The two things I had prayed for night after night.

But even though I hadn't seen Tatsuki for at least six years I could tell that her personality was the same. Soon it seemed like the years had never passed and she was insulting me and punching me and causing grievous bodily harm like we were little kids again, sparring at the dojo.

Another girl tagged along with her, a girl with browny-red hair and huge, uh, bosoms. But I was able to look Inoue Orihime straight in the eye for the whole of our introduction without my eyes straying south once, since years of Matsumoto Rangiku, one of the upperclassmen at my old school, shamelessly being...herself, had really immunized me against the appeals of a generous...you know. And of course Tatsuki was impressed by that. Inoue seemed nice enough, if a little ditzy. She kind of reminded me of Yuzu, so I smiled for once, and she turned red. Tatsuki rolled her eyes. I didn't know if that was good or not.

Oh, and Ishida Uryuu was in my class too. No surprise there. The bastard had made it his mission in life to turn my existence into a veritable hell. I'd known him since I was nine – I had just lost my mother, he had just lost his grandfather. Our dads were old friends from 'way back'. They had thought we would bond. For a doctor, my dad sure can be stupid.

Anyway. Like I was saying, it was the first day of school. I knew no one but Chad, but two strange guys kept following us around. Something like Mizijiro and Koga. I was on the alert for anything strange – a challenging glance, a snide comment, the glint in someone's eye when they were looking for a fight. I had grown up looking for those things, and I knew how to deal with them. Usually it involved bruising someone's jaw or dealing out a black eye or two, but then I was left alone for the most part. Some fuckers don't know when to let it drop, but I could usually keep them at bay using my fists.

What can I say? I was prepared for violence. I always expect the worst.

But then, what I didn't expect was a limousine suddenly materializing outside the school gates. There was a crest emblazoned on the hood, a crest I'd seen many times during the last couple of years. I'd grown familiar with it and the family that it represented, and not entirely by choice.

So I knew who was in that car, and my stomach flip-flopped at the same time my heart soared.

One of the doors opened. Kuchiki Rukia jumped out, followed by Abarai Renji, Madarame Ikkaku and Ayasegawa Yumichika. They had been my best friends for six years, during one of the hardest times of my life. They knew me better than anyone else. They irritated me, encouraged me, made me laugh when I didn't even want to smile.

But I had no idea what the fuck they were doing there.

"Yo, Ichigo!" Renji yelled, raising his hand in greeting and drawing the stares of at least a hundred bemused people. "What up, man?"

I, for one, was stunned. He was still the same – unapologetically loud, tall, annoying; his crimson hair was still spiky, his clothes were still rumpled like he'd just gotten out of bed – wait, what the fuck had happened to his eyebrows? Were those _tattoos?_

Wait. Wait. They were wearing my school uniform. They had come to my school on the first day of the semester, wearing my school uniform.

Oh noooo-

"Ichigo, my man! What is with this cold 'tude you're givin' me?" It was Renji. He slapped my shoulder and grinned.

The only thing I could say was, "Ikkaku, you've let him watch too much MTV again."

Renji said, "Pfft. Don't know what you're talking about."

I literally could not believe my eyes. "Right. What the hell are all of you doing here?" I knew what they were doing. I just had to make sure, in case I was on a bad acid trip and was hallucinating.

Yumichika sighed, brushing a lock of glossy black hair behind his ear. He had always been weirdly beautiful for a guy, and it was only made weirder by the fact that he fought like a maddened berserker when he wanted to_._ "We're going to school, of course."

"I can see that."

"Then why'd you ask, dumbass?" Ikkaku said. His bald head reflected the sun like a mirror. He'd kept the strange red markings under his eyes and the distaste for socks, apparently. And Rukia…she said nothing, and only looked at me with those slate-gray eyes of hers. She was maybe half my size (OK, a blatant exaggeration, but you get what I'm trying to say) but sometimes it felt like she could read my fucking mind. Goddamn scary.

She was the first person I had made friends with at the Academy. I just called it the Academy – all of us did – because its real name was ridiculously long and complicated, something like '_The Yamamoto Military Academy for Excellence in the Fields of Martial Education, Tactical Ability Blah Blah Blah…'_

Or something. Everyone who went there nicknamed it the 'Shinigami Academy' because the uniform was a heavy black robe, like a kimono, only more of a pain in the ass; it weighed a ton and looked so depressing that someone had once joked, long ago, that it looked like something only the Grim Reaper would wear. And the joke had stuck. Sometimes I even heard the principal – a terrifying old guy called Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryusai – slip and call it the 'Shinigami Academy' instead of its real name.

It was an expensive, exclusive school. There were scholarships, but only for the best – kind of like a school for dance or drama or music in that way, but in the Academy you learned to _fight._ I didn't know why people thought that would be useful in the modern world, I still don't, but it was a famous school and there was a shitload of competition for a single space.

I didn't know why my friends were willing to abandon such a prestigious place for something like plain old Karakura High School, but at that moment I didn't care: I just willed my body to vaporize. Renji and Ikkaku mixed with normal people only equaled disaster. Visions of exploding toilets, outraged teachers, and tables on fire filled my mind.

This was school –my new school. It wasn't like I was going for a fresh start or some shit like that, god knew it was too late, but I'd hoped to have a few more peaceful years of education at least…

Well, that plan was well and truly shot to pieces.

"-so I asked my dad and he's like, why not? 'Cuz you know the Academy is really fucking expensive, it's a miracle we aren't all living out of trash cans by now-"

I belatedly realized that Renji was trying to explain why the hell he had decided to disrupt my life to the best of his ability and how.

"I don't care, Renji," I said. "Go the hell away."

"Can't," Renji said. "Our parents have paid and everything and they won't let us back out. The Academy wouldn't let us in, the places we left have already been filled, so we can't go back there either. Not like we'd want to, we've gone waaay beyond shit like that. We should be teaching there by now, we're _that_ awesome."

Rukia beamed her evil smile – the one that fooled everyone except those who knew her well into thinking that she was sweet and harmless. "So in other words, you're stuck with us."

"Right." I was still a little numb. The shock hadn't quite worn off.

"I'm in your class, by the way," Renji said. "So's Rukia."

"That's just great. Let me whip out the balloons and the party hats and we can all celebrate properly."

He ignored me. "Yumichika and Ikkaku are juniors, though, not freshmen like us wonderful people. So." He cocked his head to the side and stared past me. "Hey, do you know those two guys? I think they're calling for you."

I turned around. "Huh. That's…uh…well, those two guys have weird names I can't remember –" Renji smirked at me, and I scowled. "Hey, shut up! I just met them today. You know what I'm like with names. But that big guy behind them is Chad, and the thin nerdy one with the glasses and the constipated expression is Ishida. But don't get too familiar, y'know, you aren't staying here long if I can help it."

He looked wounded and slung an arm around my shoulders. "Ehhh? So little love. Rukia, help me out here. Rukia?"

We found that the rest of our friends had vanished: Rukia had most probably deviated towards the nearest smutty yaoi manga, Yumichika obviously was heading towards the nearest mirror and I could see Ikkaku in the distance, his bald head glinting in the sun, looming over some terrified freshman that had either inquired about his lack of hair or the wooden sword he had tucked into his belt.

"Why does he have a sword?" I asked. "Wait, don't answer. I already know."

Renji shrugged. "Well, you know how he is. He doesn't feel comfortable without some form of phallic representation around him at all times. I think there might be something he has to tell us in the future, but we'll just have to be understanding about it."

"…OK, that really wasn't what I was thinking."

"Then what were you gonna say?"

"That he likes fighting."

"…Ah."

"Yeah."

"Maybe we should go inside…before…"

"Ikkaku hears what you said about him and reduces you to a wet smear on the ground?"

Renji looked queasy. He was a tough guy and could take all sorts of shit without even blinking, but Ikkaku was his senior and could still strike fear in his heart. I kinda wished I had the same power, because although I'd beaten Renji like the ground more than once the stupid guy still treated me as more of an annoying younger brother than an equal. But I supposed that Renji suddenly acting humble and polite to anybody (except Yamamoto, and that even _I _could understand) would have, you know, heralded the apocalypse to anyone who knew him. He was that much of a moron.

But at least he made the time pass by faster. I had been prepared for the fact that the first couple of hours of school would be excruciatingly boring; now that the craziest people I knew were attending my school, though, I knew things wouldn't be anything as soothing as that.

"So why didn't ya want us here in the first place, Ichigo?" Renji asked finally, lounging on my desk and generally being annoying. It was after orientation, which I had just about slept through, and we were in our new classroom.

"Because you're like chaos and destruction personified," I said. "Get off my desk."

"Heh, thanks. And no."

"It's not a compliment, don't be so proud. You always ruin school for me, remember? You stopped me from getting a perfect mark in fifth grade with that little stunt you pulled with the tacks on Kurotsuchi's stupid chair-"

Renji snorted with laughter. "Shit, I'd almost forgotten about that!"

"He thought it was me!" I fumed. "And I was _that _close to a hundred percent-"

"Oh, cool it, you still managed to get a perfect score the next year."

"But still-"

"Don't fucking tell me," Ikkaku said, dropping into the seat next to me. "He's bitching about the tacks again."

"Shut u- Ikkaku, what are you doing here? This isn't even your class! Go away!"

"The boy needs to get laid," said Ikkaku.

"Word."

I looked at Renji in horror. "And you! Don't ever associate with me again!"

"Please. You weren't complaining that time we tricked Omaeda into eating fish paste and cardboard."

"Well, that was-"

"Or the time we blew up the toilets."

"Renji-"

"_Or_ the time we-"

"All right!" I held my hands up in defeat. "God, this is why I don't want you here. The next three years are just gonna be so _insane-"_

" Well now,_ this_ is interesting," a new voice said, dark and smooth. "Just _look_ who it is. Long time no see, Kurosaki."

It's hard to really explain the sensation that overcame me when I heard that, but I think it's enough when I say that I felt every bone in my body seize up with unexplainable horror.

After all, I _knew _that voice.

* * *

_**People who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children ~ **__**Bill Watterson**_

* * *

_The first time I laid eyes on him, all I could see was his hair. His impossibly vibrant, icy blue hair. _

_It was like a beacon to me, because orange was unusual enough, but in some places it wasn't such a weird color, you know? But blue…that's something else entirely._

_And his eyes. They were blue too, but more intense, almost violently so. Darker. His hair was the color of the light sliding off an iceberg, and his eyes were like the sky at the peak of summer. His hair was longish, and hung in his eyes, and it only framed the disgruntled expression he was wearing when I first saw his face._

_I hadn't been able to take my eyes off him._

_My mom told me not to stare, that it was rude. It was my very first day of school. I was six years old. I was terrified._

_She whispered soft words in my ear, stuff you say to kids to stop them from crying, but it didn't work for me. I was a real crybaby then. I clung to my mom like a barnacle. She practically had to peel me off so that I could go to class that day, and for the first two weeks all I did was stare out the window in case she came back for me__ early. I cried a lot, because I missed her and I was scared. I was six years old and without my mother for the first time, it's not really that surprising. It should embarrass me, but it doesn't. _

_But I got over it, I guess. After a while__ I stopped bawling my eyes out so much, but I still didn't talk to anyone. The other kids…they all just stared at my hair, then pointed and whispered. Whenever I got near them I just clammed up. I had no friends at school. Tatsuki went somewhere else, and she was the only person I knew who was of the same age. The only other name I knew was _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

_I'm terrible with names, and with faces. I can meet someone half a dozen times and not have any clue who they are. _

_But _he_ stuck in my head. _

_Mostly, it was because he had a really weird name. Hardly anyone could pronounce it right, at first. And then there was the fact that he was foreign, and rich – I'd heard that his parents were from Europe, wherever that was, and both were successful businesspeople – but I think more than anything it was the hair._

_Grimmjow__ had hair like mine – unusual, loud, colorful. He was cool, exotic, otherworldly; he was smart and loud and witty, and everyone liked him. Even when he was six years old he had charisma. He was the boy everyone wanted to be friends with. _

_Including me__._

_I thought that maybe we would be similar. Maybe we would both share the same experiences, of being picked on or stared at because of our hair. It sounds shallow, it sounds stupid, and it's a terrible reason to want to be friends with someone (because they have blue hair!) but I was six years old. From the moment I saw him I thought he was cool. I thought to myself, That is someone I think I will like. _

_And you know, I thought he might have liked to be friends with me too.__ But it didn't take him long for him to thoroughly disabuse me of that childish idea._

* * *

That voice had deepened considerably in the years since I'd heard it last, but I could still recognize the anger churning under the contempt, the snide tone, the hatred dripping off every word. I'd known that voice, very well. I hadn't thought I would hear it again.

I stood up and turned around, and looked at him – Grimmjow was older, of course, but the blue eyes and hair were the same, his expression was as menacing as ever, and I could taste the stink of his arrogance from the opposite end of the room. What I experienced at that moment was something like to a knife made of pure fear stabbing into my heart; it was mixed with resentment and a slow, rising fury.

It's not an exaggeration. I don't make shit like that up.

My jaw clenched so hard I didn't think I could speak, I thought I would break a bone or something, but I managed to choke out: "You…what are _you…"_

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques grinned, and it honest-to-God sent chills scuttling down my spine. "I go to school here now. I'm in your class. Ain't that just peachy?"

My whole body was stiff with amazement, and I _could not believe what I was hearing._ "You…here? School? With me?"

"Hah, that's right. Didn't think we'd meet again after so long, but maybe it's fate, huh?"

I couldn't breathe. That voice - those eyes - they triggered a deep primal urge to curl up and hide. To be honest, I wanted nothing more than to run away. Just looking at him, it filled with me with such a heady cocktail of emotions I thought I would black out. Fear was foremost.

It's instinct, right? When you're faced with a predator it's fight or flight. I used to run. In the past, it had been all I'd ever done when he faced me. But now-

I took a deep breath. I was stronger now. I wasn't a coward, not anymore. I'd gone through years of merciless, brutal training at the hands of some of the most talented fighters in the country, I'd been beaten and bruised black and blue, I'd bled and broken my bones, and that was just scratching the fucking surface. I wasn't a child anymore.

Anything he dished out, I could take. And I'd give it back _times ten._

I hear his voice in my head, I hear him saying it again and again – only nine years old but so cruel already.

"_You were the one who killed her." _

Grimmjow, you're not going to win the game this time. I won't let you.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" I hissed.

The face-splitting grin just widened, "Ooh, Kurosaki, you should watch your language. Wouldn't want your mommy to scold you now, would you? Oh, no, wait…sorry, I forgot she was dead. Must be six years now, yeah?" His eyes widened in mock concern. "How's your conscience holding up? Has it become easier to live as a murderer?"

Later, Renji told me that I turned as white as a sheet. All I remember is that it took Chad's calming hand on my shoulder and his whispered encouragements in my ear to bring me back from the black haze of rage I had been about to fall into. But really, it was amazing. Even after six years, Grimmjow still remembered what buttons to push, and he was whacking at them with a sledgehammer remorselessly.

No mercy. From the very beginning, he went all out. I knew that about him.

I calmed myself down, but it took an effort. I turned away and sat down again. I could physically_ feel_ Grimmjow's contempt, like some kind of invisible animal biting at the back of my neck.

"Ichigo?" Renji asked quietly. "You OK?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

"You want us to take care of him for you?" Ikkaku asked, fingering his sword threateningly. "Actually, I can deal with him on my own. I wouldn't even break a sweat."

"It's OK!" I insisted, under his breath. "Leave it."

Renji and Ikkaku still looked at Grimmjow with violent suspicion; Chad stared with one serious dark eye, and even Ishida was frowning, although he hadn't said a word so far. Rukia and Tatsuki had joined us – soon, they surrounded me, and it was like having a warm blanket thrown over you when you're freezing cold. I could relax a little, but I never let my gaze leave Grimmjow.

I couldn't keep my eyes off him – his face, it hadn't changed much, had matured and all but he still looked the same: sharp nose and chin, bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, messy blue hair…if I hadn't known who he was, what he was, I would have said that he was good-looking. But no amount of beauty can hide an ugly personality. And I knew that only too well.


	2. explanation for enmity

**en****mi****t****y** _noun_

a feeling or condition of hostility; hatred; ill will; animosity; antagonism.

* * *

That day, the first time I'd seen Kurosaki in six years, I couldn't believe my luck. I'd just moved back to that little shithole of a town and I was feeling pretty nostalgic, you know? But not in a good way.

Everything bad that had ever happened to me had happened right there in Karakura, so you could understand that I was in a really fucking shitty mood.

The school my mother had made me attend was still there, still old and expensive and prestigious. The memories of that place – it's like something's glued itself onto my brain and I can't scratch it out.

And the house.

It was exactly the same – huge, high-ceilinged rooms where your footsteps echoed; too many doors; it was cold and empty, just like I'd remembered.

Just the sort of place where you want to bring up your kid, right?

I didn't want my old room. It was too big, there was too much space I didn't know what to do with.

I had hardly anything, just some clothes, posters, a few knick-knacks – nothing special, though, nothing precious.

They could burn with the house if there was ever a fire.

I wouldn't give a shit.

But even with a tiny, poky little bedroom, there was a depressing amount of empty space. A bed. Desk. Wardrobe. Nothing else.

But I'm a messy guy, so I knew it wouldn't be long till you wouldn't be able to see the floor for all the dirty plates and the clothes thrown carelessly to the ground.

I was right, but usually the effect that you get when you see a teenage boy's dumping ground of a bedroom is that it's lived in.

I don't think mine ever felt like that. It felt forced. Everything did.

I hated Karakura. I hated the streets, I hated the houses, I hated the people. I hated the air and the trees and every single fucking thing I saw.

I spent the worst years of my life there.

And coming back – that was only the beginning. We moved back into my old house, full of old and unwelcome memories, and I was already feeling pretty shitty, and then my dad just added the cherry to the cake and told me I was supposed to attend some dump of a high school – not only that, he didn't let me out of his sight until I was actually on my way to the goddamn classroom so I had no way of skipping the whole fucking affair.

So there I was, getting lost in the hallways, then I saw my classroom and I walked in. There was maybe twenty, twenty-five people in the whole class and they were making such a huge amount of noise that my entrance went unnoticed. I got a few stares. It was the hair – I ignored them. No one knew me here. No one knew who I was.

I moved to sit down.

And then, I heard it.

His voice, it was lower and deeper, but somehow I could still recognize him instantly. I looked up; I saw the hair.

Bright.

Fucking.

_Orange._

I can't really describe what I felt then. It completely took me over. Something like shock. Something like anger. Glee.

A strange mix, don't you think?

It's a complicated history we have together. After we graduated and left school it only got _more_ complicated. Hell, our relationship got weirder and weirder during those three years in that place.

But let's start from the beginning, so I don't confuse you. It wouldn't be hard to – I mean, shit, I _lived _that fucking story and sometimes it even confuses me.

* * *

_So it started when I was six: I saw him on the first day of school - small, tearful, terrified, clutching his mother like she was a goddess that could save him from some unspeakable horror. _

_His hair was still as loud, still as bright. _

_He was whimpering, but his mother, she was beautiful, and she was smiling. I saw her fuss and fawn over him and kiss him. _

_And that was when it began._

_At first, I could ignore it. I was jealous, of course I was – why should Kurosaki Ichigo, some perpetually snot-nosed nobody, have such a mother when I didn't? But you know, I reasoned that he would get over it. That I would get over it. _

_At first he just annoyed me. He kept staring at me, shyly, looking away when he saw me noticing; but he was too quiet, too weak, too boring to interest me for long. _

_But when I saw his mother picking him up after school day after goddamn day, smiling, waving, hugging him, it really began to irritate me. My mother was hardly in the fucking country, my dad was too busy to look at me twice, the house was too big and empty and all the fancy toys in the world couldn't hide it._

_Instead of my mom or dad it was my nanny who collected me from school every day. She was tall and old and stern-faced, a woman who refused to learn Japanese and always spoke to me in German._

_I hated the language. _

_I still do. _

_I replied to her in French, which I knew she understood, but it was a constant battle. _

_Beating her. _

_Getting the best scores in school. _

_Excelling in music._

_Sport._

_Everything. _

_I had to be the best._

_I was not allowed to let my mother down._

_Remembering it makes me feel sick._

_But Kurosaki…he had it good. He had it easy. His mom didn't care if her son got ninety-nine percent in a Math test instead of a hundred, she didn't care if he wasn't part of just about every stupid shitty after-school club, she didn't care if he didn't practice his violin for an hour every fucking day – but mine did. That was all she cared about._

_Can you tell that I feel just a teensy little bit bitter about it?_

_It got worse and worse. For some reason, he just stuck out _more_ than the other kids. His family seemed happier, more perfect than anything else I'd ever seen and the more I saw him with his mother and his father and his sisters, his flawless fucking family, the more I started to hate the sight of his face, his voice, his clothes, the way he walked, the color of his hair. _

_I hated his shyness and his gentle eyes. I hated the way he started smiling at the other kids, the way he started to make friends. I hated it all._

_I had an endless capacity for hatred when I was a kid._

_So yeah, I was a twisted little fuck. A total shit. Now I look back on it, I'm surprised at how little time it took me to start to loathe him. After only a few months I wanted to make his life hell. I wanted to break him down, tear down the protection he had built around himself in the form of his mother. I wanted to _destroy_ him._

_And let me tell you - if there is _anything_ I'm good at, it's destruction._

_

* * *

_

_**And thus I clothe my naked villainy**__**  
**__**With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ;**__**  
**__**And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. **_

**~William Shakespeare**

**

* * *

**

"_Freak!"_

"_Weirdo!"_

_The little boy withered a little, but there was still a spark of defiance in his eyes, "I am not!"_

"_Yes you are!" they sneered. It was always they – a crowd. A mob. Ichigo didn't know their names, but did that really matter? The individual did not matter. It was the collective that hounded him._

_He didn't understand: he had been making friends. Talking to people. Finally opening up. And it had been_ nice_ – they didn't laugh at him, they didn't stare, they didn't whisper behind his back, pretending he couldn't hear them when they knew he could. It was a change._

_And now, suddenly, they had disappeared. Nahoko and Botan and Kenosuke and the others – they didn't even explain. One day, they had been his friends; the next day, they had not. _

_He could see some of their faces at that very moment in the crowd, gleeful, guiltily excited, red-cheeked and eyes sparkling. It scared him, to see how swiftly, how easily, they had turned against him. In the space of a few days they had turned from almost-friends into his tormentors. _

_But they were not the only ones – there were others. He didn't know them; he didn't want to. They hurled insults. They left mud in his bag. They gouged out chunks from his desk and stole his clothes and ruined his books. Ichigo didn't know what to do. He didn't know why they did it, or who – all of them did, it seemed. All of them hated him. He didn't know why._

_It had started with his hair, as always. They called him' unnatural', they picked fights, they called him names, or they completely ignored his existence. Everyone he approached rebuffed him. The tentative confidence that had been flowering started to fade. The crippling shyness began to come back. He did not talk at school; he did not raise his hand to answer questions, only spoke when he was spoken to by a teacher, and kept to himself._

_There were, however, a few flickers of boldness – a glare here, a harsh reply to an insult there – but Ichigo didn't know what to do. He believed the teachers would never have believed him if he told them about it, because not only were there too many of them, but Grimmjow was their leader: Grimmjow the model student, Grimmjow the fabulously rich, Grimmjow the funny, sweet, mischievous little boy all the teachers loved to praise._

_Ichigo knew he didn't stand a chance. But it didn't stop him from fighting. _

_

* * *

__I think it lasted three years._

_Yeah, that sounds about right._

_See, I can hold grudges for a hell of a long time. I was petty, selfish, full of resentment and anger – I still am, and I don't make excuses for it. _

_It's who I am._

_In my eyes, Kurosaki didn't deserve the happiness he got, not while I was suffering. _

_So I did my best to annihilate every shred of happiness in his life._

_And you know, it was surprisingly easy. People think that six year old kids are always so sweet and innocent and all that shit, but really, when you get down to it, they're devious fucking little monsters. They haven't been taught the intricate systems that make up human society and its rules. They're animals – they see something weak, and they pounce. They band together and attack, like lions leaping onto a zebra and ripping it apart. _

_Children represent humanity without the frills. They're pure animal instinct._

_Instinctively, they saw that I was strong. They followed me like I was their leader._

_Kurosaki was weak. _

_He became the prey._

_All I did was nudge them along. Suggest a few things. I oversaw it all. And I was proud – I was _happy,_ when I heard Kurosaki sniffling and whimpering in the boys' toilets at lunchtime. I liked making him cry. I liked to pick at the shield he'd built around himself. I liked seeing him break down - it meant I was winning. It meant that his mother couldn't solve every single fucking problem in his life._

_And in the end, it meant that he was just like me. Crushed down to the level he deserved to be at.__I made sure I was always there, in some form or another: I enjoyed seeing Kurosaki being beaten down into the pale, quivering mess he deserved to be. I always took pride in the fact that Kurosaki's efforts at - well, everything - backfired more often than not. And I was also proud of the fact that most of the time, I was responsible, either directly or not. _

_I liked seeing him like that because proved that he wasn't better. Better than me._

_More deserving of something I should have had._

_So it's like I said._

_I was complete asshole, even when I was six years old._

_

* * *

_I looked at him then, on the first day of high school, and I could tell that Kurosaki was still as pathetic as ever. Still as weak. He needed his friends to protect him – it was always _someone else_ who saved him, shielded him from the real world. His mother. His family. And now, these freaks.

One fucker with weird red hair and tattoos, a baldy, some camp faggot with feathers in his eyebrow, a redhead with huge tits, that dyke Arisawa – hah, he'd really gotten a nice collection, hadn't he? All freaks and weirdos.

Well. You know what they say about birds of a feather...

I'd always known that if he had friends they would be like that.

But they wouldn't be able to help him. No, I wouldn't let them. I would get my fucking revenge – it was all his fault, after all. All because of him.

I hadn't known he would fight back. So what if his mother had just died? It wasn't like I gave a shit.

And it all started because of that _one day._ Everything that went wrong with my life, I can trace it back to there, to that incident.

* * *

_**Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love. ~ **_**George Eliot**

**

* * *

**

_For three years, I endured everything Grimmjow threw at me. At school I didn't talk to anyone and kept to myself; I put up with the whispers, the laughing, the jokes they made up about my hair; I put up with the missing textbooks and jackets, my bag being stolen, my work being sabotaged, the worms in my shoes. It was hell but I put up with it._

_I was nine years old but I still cried, and they mocked me, they surrounded me in rings and taunted me while at the helm of that ship Grimmjow stood grinning, eyes vicious and cold even at such a young age. Fuck, I _hated_ thinking about Grimmjow. I couldn't stand him anymore, I couldn't look at him or be around him or think about him. Even the sound of his voice made me literally shake with fear. _

_But as well as scared, confused, lonely - I felt _betrayed_ by him; I'd thought we had shared something in common. I was always working up the courage to talk to him. But he had so many friends, he was so popular, he didn't have the time of day for me. I didn't understand why he'd started it, why he hated me so much._

_And he _did_ hate me. I could see it in his eyes every time we looked at each other. _

_I never, ever told my mother. I knew she didn't deserve the anger and guilt she would feel if she found out. But it wasn't her fault – I thought that it was mine._

_And I felt so pathetic, so weak and useless for nothing being able to stand up to them, for not being able to deal with the problem on my own. Almost every kid at the school treated me like a leper, and none of the teachers would have believed me if I told the truth._

_I'd confronted Grimmjow, just to ask him what he was doing. Why he was doing it. Things got out of hand, as they do when two young boys' tempers get heated up. Things were said. Stones may have been thrown. And afterwards, the story had gone round that I had assaulted one of the smartest, most courteous and respectful students in my year for no reason at all, that I was a good-for-nothing punk that deliberately excluded myself from the rest of the school body. _

_People said that they should have known, from the hair. Something was wrong with the parents, if they kept their son looking like that._

_Can I just say that _it's notmy fucking fault_ I have orange hair._

_I went through it all in silence, not trusting anyone else to solve the problem for myself. It wasn't out of some twisted sense of self-pity. I didn't want to be the noble suffering hero. I didn't want any sympathy for the experience - I just didn't want to see the look of disappointment and hurt that would inevitably find its way onto my mother's face. _

_Seeing that expression always made me feel angry, more so when I was the cause of it. I had sworn to be strong, to protect the ones I loved: my sisters, my mother, my father - and anyway, wasn't that what my name meant? One Who Protects? It was my purpose in life, and I would have died before admitting failure. I was a stubborn kid. I didn't let anyone else do my work for me, I still don't, and it's something I'm proud of. _

_But don't get me wrong. I didn't _enjoy_ being bullied. Who does? It was like living in some haunted world where everyone your own age ignored your very existence. It was horrible. Crippling. In those three years I don't think I said more than a dozen words to more than five people in the whole school. That was how bad it was. For a few weeks, I stopped talking entirely, even at home. That worried my mom, though, so I stopped it._

_The only times I enjoyed himself during those three years, my only outlets, were karate lessons at the dojo and helping my mother at home with my sisters._ _I know this sounds really fucking cheesy, but seeing their smiling faces reminded me just what I would die for every day, so I reasoned that a little bit of teasing at school was nothing. All feelings of inadequacy and weakness evaporated when I saw mom standing at the school gates at the end of the day, either Karin or Yuzu by her side, waving cheerfully to me. At the dojo Tatsuki was my friend, even though it always seemed like she never really liked me as much as I liked her, but I enjoyed learning from my master and slowly getting stronger. It helped me get through it all._

_My parents knew something was wrong, but they didn't find out what. I didn't tell them – I couldn't, I felt too ashamed – and the teachers didn't either, they were pretty ignorant of everything that went on in that school, so I guess it was just intuition. They kept telling me that they were my parents, that I could trust them with everything, that I could tell them anything and they would still love me. I understood what they were saying, but I still couldn't get it out. _

_But they helped anyway: my dad, he got me a part-time place at his old school, the famous Yamamoto Military Academy – or the Shinigami Academy, he said everyone called it – and I went there after school three times a week, for extra training in martial arts. All of my dad's old friends were teachers there and I knew them, I felt comfortable with them. _

_Uncle Jyuushirou, Aunt Retsu, Yoruichi-neesan…they helped me become stronger, more focused;_ _they made my days bearable. Sometimes, when it was too much, I would go to the Academy and I would focus all my anger, my frustration, my wrath into my training there. I was progressing, but not fast enough for my tastes. I was impatient. I found myself wishing for something, _anything,_ which would finally propel me into developing into the skilled warrior that I knew I could be. _

_And n the end my wish came true. Afterwards, I learned to be careful of what I wished for. _


	3. impetus

**im·pe·tus** _noun_

1. An impelling force; an impulse.

2. The force or energy associated with a moving body.

3. Something that incites, a stimulus; increased activity in response to a stimulus

* * *

How can I describe it?

The feeling of seeing your mother die right in front of you, while you sit there, stunned, helpless, confused?

Well, I can't find words to tell you how it felt. I can't do that. Whenever I think about it it's like someone's stolen all the air from my lungs and I can't really breathe. I used to dream about it – terrifying nightmares where I imagined her dead body sitting up, dripping with blood, looking at me and smiling; getting to her feet and staggering to me, broken bones cracking, blood gushing out of the cuts in her skin, cooing to me in her gentle voice that it was OK, she was OK, everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about-

And then I would look closer and I saw that she'd be as white as a marble statue; I felt her hands and they were icy cold; sometimes maggots would start falling from the empty, rotten eye sockets onto my hair and face, squirming and writhing, white and fat and disgusting. Her mouth would open, wider, wider, wider, the bones snapping open, she leaned forward until I was stiff with terror – I knew that she was going to eat me, swallow me whole, as punishment for letting her die.

I used to wake up screaming and crying, covered in sweat, and after that I slept with my father and sisters in the same bed for a month. It was too hot, too uncomfortable: Yuzu cried so much she left the pillows soggy, dad had always had cold feet, and Karin squirmed too much and almost kicked us all out of the bed onto the floor. And my nightmares didn't stop and continued to wake us all up at least once a night.

I kept apologizing to dad about it. He looked more tired than all of us put together, weary, numb, black shadows under his eyes and more scratchy stubble on his chin than usual. But he would smile at me and tell me it was all right, it wasn't my fault, we would all get through it together. He said mom wouldn't have wanted us to act like this. He smiled, but his eyes were dead.

Sometimes I thought he might have blamed me. If I hadn't been playing with that ball, it wouldn't have rolled away. I wouldn't have run after it. Mom wouldn't have had to push me out of the way. And that car would never have hit her.

I remember seeing blood pooling around her head, like a halo. I remember the dazed expression on her face, her slightly parted lips dripping blood, her half-open eyes. I remember a mob of loud, screeching people; hands tugging me away, forcing my head to the side so I couldn't see her; a blaring siren and blinding lights, and the feeling of holding her limp, clammy, dead hand in mine on the way to the hospital in that horrible, horrible ambulance.

And I remember that for days after she'd died I had felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing. I wondered, what was wrong with me? Was I a freak, for not feeling sad? For not crying? And I thought that maybe if I went back there I would feel it, that grief. I didn't go to school for two weeks. I returned to that spot by the river and stared at where the fence had been mangled out of shape by the car crashing into it, at the place where I could still imagine her dead body. But nothing came.

There was no anger, really, just a void. Like something was eating me up from the inside out. I could feel nothing. And it wore me out.

_**

* * *

Death ends a life, not a relationship.**__** ~ Morrie Schwartz

* * *

**_

_No one knew exactly who had said it first, but by the first Monday after it had happened it was all over the school that the orange-haired freak's mother had died gruesomely in a car crash - and that he himself had been there to see it. _

_Every class was abuzz with the exciting news. Kurosaki Ichigo was famous, in a way: he was the favored target of the most popular boy in third grade, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, whose parents were fabulously rich. He was generous with their wealth and particular friends of his would always expect a present on their birthday or on New Year's; Grimmjow was rich and foreign and therefore cool by default, and there was no one, not one single person, who wanted to be on his bad side. He was ingenious, ruthless, and violently sadistic for his age. Whoever crossed him always paid the price. _

_His cruelty towards Ichigo waxed and waned like the sight of the moon. Generally, he was left alone apart from the few occasions he was confronted by various gangs of children at times when no one could be caught. At worst he would cry to himself silently in the boys' toilets, but most of the time he was well used to the taunts and barbs they threw his way and was able to take it all without complaint. _

_The dead insects in his lunch didn't really stop. Soon he ceased eating at school altogether but they always found a way: graffiti was scrawled all over his desk, his shoes and clothes often went missing, his bag was filled with mud or water, and his mother had frequently teased him about the money she had to spend on replacing things he had damaged by 'falling' or by having 'accidents'. Her light-hearted attitude only made him feel worse, and he had hid it from her as much as he could. _

_He never knew who did it; they were a huge faceless mass, he didn't know any of their names apart from those of his former friends and Grimmjow's. But it wouldn't have made a difference, even if he had. Ichigo knew he was alone. _

_

* * *

__That particular day was no different. Kurosaki had come to school after two weeks' absence due to 'the sudden sorrowful death' of his mother and Grimmjow couldn't wait: he had missed playing with his favorite toy and had thought up some fun new games over Kurosaki's vacation that he was just itching to put into motion. _

_Kurosaki's first few hours were uneventful, mostly because the stupid teachers couldn't stop cooing over him, always glancing his way and asking if he was all right, did he feel well? He was looking pale, did he want to go see the nurse? But stupid Kurosaki shook his head and said nothing. He hadn't spoken a word, not since he had returned, but it wasn't that strange since he mostly kept his mouth shut in class anyway. At lunch he had no friends to sit and eat with and usually hung out in the library or an unused classroom, so him not talking didn't make a difference then either. _

_But an hour or two before the end of school Grimmjow was met with an unusual sight: he saw Kurosaki in the playground, sitting on a swing by himself and rocking back and forth morosely, limbs dangling and orange head cast downwards. Grimmjow smiled and approached with a few friends, who hung behind him in case a teacher came to check up on them. They didn't interfere; it was his turn for some fun. _

_He stood silently in front of Kurosaki, waiting for the boy to acknowledge him, but even after couple of seconds had passed there was nothing and he began to feel annoyed. _

"_Oi, freak. How's it going?" _

_It earned a titter from his friends but Kurosaki still didn't respond. Grimmjow frowned. One thing he hated above all others was to be ignored and Kurosaki would pay for doing it to him, the insolent bastard. _

_Grimmjow tried again and again to provoke him into action, using insults that had proven to have had explosive and entertaining results in the past. But the freak sat there on the swing, looking as weak and pitiable as ever, as silent as a corpse. Usually he would have started to sniffle if the taunts were particularly well-placed; either that or he would half-heartedly attempt to defend himself, but he was always outnumbered and outmatched. _

_But now...now, he was really starting to grate on Grimmjow's nerves. Kurosaki refused to be any fun at all. Grimmjow reached out and shoved him hard, dislodging the other boy from the swing and causing him to fall backwards with a hard thump. He caught the wildly swinging perch with his foot and when Kurosaki had halfway gotten up he kicked the swing forcefully into his face. It impacted with a delightfully loud smack and resulted in Kurosaki reeling backwards, holding his face, making a noise – at last. _

_Grimmjow's friends burst out into loud laughter, and he smirked, anticipating maybe a rare occasion where Kurosaki would actually try and fight him. It never failed to be a pathetic yet hilarious sight; for all his karate training he was weak and uncoordinated and Grimmjow could always bring him down with a well-placed, vicious kick. _

_Kurosaki's nose was bleeding copiously. He still wasn't making a sound, and wiped the blood away from his face with a sleeve and sat back down on the swing. Blood continued to drip off his skin, onto his clothes. He never looked up. _

_The triumph and anticipation was rapidly draining away and what was left was a cold pit of fear stagnating in Grimmjow's stomach. He could hear the others behind him muttering under their breaths to each other, and the terrifying thought that they might leave him paralyzed his body. He needed his audience but Kurosaki was being unwilling today: he had no choice but to cut his losses and retreat. _

"_God, you're boring," he declared loudly, turning away. "C'mon guys. Let's go have fun somewhere else. The freak can show us a good time tomorrow." _

_As they walked away he resisted the urge to look back and see if Kurosaki had noticed their departure. He knew deep down that Kurosaki probably wouldn't notice anything he did anymore, and the thought made him burn with anger. He vowed to try harder next time. Just because the stupid boy's mother was dead didn't mean he would get it any easier. Grimmjow would make sure of that.

* * *

_

_At least a week had passed and there was still no difference. Grimmjow was reaching the edges of his patience. He had played nice so far, but Kurosaki was making it increasingly difficult for everyone. He never uttered a word, either in class or otherwise; he did his work wordlessly, and unlike before, when he'd been surrounded on all sides by enemies and hated it, now he simply ignored everything happening around him. When he was made fun of and taunted, when rumors were spread about him, he didn't react at all; when he was pushed to the ground and punched and kicked he stayed down, he never fought back, he never made a sound. Grimmjow was almost desperate. _

_But then, one day, he hit gold. _

_It was a Friday and the whole school was restless. Lunch was noisier than usual, the kids were rowdy and wild and almost every teacher had retired inside to escape from the incredible summer heat. Kurosaki was on one of the swings again, in the playground and slowly he swayed back and forth as children tumbled and laughed and played about him. _

_Grimmjow approached, quietly and leisurely. Surrounding children picked up on his air of resolute decisiveness and gathered around him, chattering and murmuring excitedly at the spectacle about to unfold. _

"_Hey, freak. Still not talking, eh?" he said. "Che, no surprise there. So you're dumb as well as stupid and ugly now, are you?" _

_A ripple of laughter spread outwards from the center of the semicircle round Kurosaki, and Grimmjow smirked, his confidence bolstered. _

"_I bet this is a new trick you got taught by that stupid mother of yours, huh? Ignore the big bad boys from school and maybe they'll go away, right?" He snickered. "Well, that hasn't-" _

"_Go away." _

_After weeks and weeks of silence the sound of his voice, raw and scratchy, was startling. Grimmjow blinked, then his lips curved into a vindictive, delighted smile. "What was that?" _

_Kurosaki Ichigo looked up at him, brown eyes dark and smoldering with rage. "I said, _go away."

_Grimmjow almost started laughing, relief filling his veins like a drug. He should have known. He should have known that talking about Kurosaki's mother would have made his prey respond. He berated himself for not realizing it sooner, but he knew it now and there was no time like the present. _

"_So how are you gonna make me go away, Kurosaki? Gonna call your stupid mother? Oh, wait…"Grimmjow paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "She's all dead and gone now, isn't she? Can't help you at all." _

_Kurosaki swallowed thickly, hands balling into fists. "Shut up." _

"_I bet she looked really disgusting, all splattered on the ground. Were her guts all over the pace? Was there blood? I bet there was-" _

"_Shut up!" His voice was trembling, and two bright spots of color had appeared on his cheekbones, marring skin that had become increasingly sallow over the last month. _

_Grimmjow was enjoying himself too much to stop. He was on a roll, falling from a dangerous height at a terrifying speed – and he couldn't stop himself. "And you were there, right? You saw it all. Y'know, I heard that you were the one who caused it-" _

_Kurosaki crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at his face. "No, stop it, please stop-" _

"'_Cuz she pushed you out of the way of a car and it hit her instead, that's what I heard a teacher saying-" _

"_No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't-" _

"_So really, you were responsible, right? You were the one who killed her-" _

"_Shut UP!" Kurosaki screamed, standing and looking at Grimmjow with tear-filled eyes. "I didn't mean it! She wasn't…I didn't…" _

_Grimmjow snickered. "Gonna cry? Go ahead, it's so freaking hilarious. Your mommy ain't ever gonna come save you now." _

_Kurosaki swallowed, then straightened and stared evenly into Grimmjow's electric blue eyes. He was breathing heavily and there was a dark edge to his expression that Grimmjow hadn't seen before. Kurosaki said quietly, "At least my mom loved me."__  
_

_Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. "What?" _

"_My mom loved me. You're just jealous. You've always been jealous! You're pathetic! Your mom doesn't like you, I've seen her around. She never looks at you, she never holds your hand or kisses your or hugs you, she's never liked you, she hates you even though she's your mother-" _

_He felt his blood run cold. "Shut up, Kurosaki." _

"_No! I won't shut up!" _

_There was an almost silent rumble of sound from the crowd gathered around them. Grimmjow jumped. He'd just about forgotten they were there. _

"_You're pathetic!" Kurosaki spat, brown eyes blazing. "A pathetic weak little worm, and nobody loves you, not even your own mother-" _

_"Shut up."_

_"You're weak, you're so weak, and you don't even have real friends, people only hang around with you 'cuz they're scared of you and you're rich!" Kurosaki screamed. "You really think you have friends? You really think anyone likes you? No one likes you! You're nobody! _Nobody!"_  
_

_Neither of them quite knew how it had escalated from there. Grimmjow was aware of his body growing numb with shock and irrational rage – he had screamed something in return and Kurosaki had launched himself at him, they fought on the ground and it was nothing Grimmjow had ever experienced before. Dirt and stones and dust threw themselves into his eyes, ground their way into his skin, and Kurosaki had the upper hand with five years' worth of karate training under his belt and pure unadulterated fury powering his every move. _

_Grimmjow remembered kicking and punching and biting and scratching and every action being returned and doubled, teachers pulling them apart and seeing Kurosaki's face covered with blood and tears and dirt – he knew his own face was probably the same, but he couldn't help it, he struggled against the arms holding him back, his hands reaching out to choke the life out of the worthless rat who _dared _say such words to him, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques – _

_They were both expelled. He wasn't surprised: theirs had been a very prestigious school, which did not tolerate the slightest misdemeanour twice. They had both inflicted and suffered broken bones, bruises and cuts and neither of them were going to forget it. Grimmjow knew he would never forget the sight of Kurosaki's rotten, ugly face as long as he lived. Even if his mother decided he should go to school somewhere else, a thousand miles away from Kurosaki, he would never forget the words they had exchanged that day and he vowed he would never, ever forgive the bastard for it. No matter what happened.

* * *

_

_Ichigo couldn't really remember what happened during the days after he had gotten expelled from school. He had a broken arm – either left or right, he couldn't recall which, not that it mattered anyway – and his face was swelling up and changing hue from blue to green to yellow, and whenever Karin or Yuzu saw him they would shriek and run away. But he didn't care. He was beyond caring. _

_What he was able to recollect were the many, many faces he saw – all faces that he knew well and recognized effortlessly, like that of Yoruichi-neesan and Uncle Shunsui and even sometimes Grandpa Genryuusai (although he didn't like Grandpa Genryuusai so much sometimes, he was so tall and stern and scary, Ichigo was sure that he could make anything burst into flame just by looking at it). And sometimes there were people Ichigo didn't recognize, like the cold white-haired man called Ryuuken and the bespectacled Uryuu – Ichigo didn't like Uryuu at all; he either acted like a wailing crybaby or a stupid snotty brat, and he hated Ichigo as much as Ichigo hated him. _

_There was no release. Every day was black and endless. His sisters had changed and so had his dad, although it was hard tell. Ichigo heard him crying in his room at night, once or twice. _

_Every sight, every sound, every smell only hardened the tangle of self-hatred in Ichigo's heart, until it had crystallized as hard as a diamond in his breast. He couldn't look at anything the same way anymore. Grimmjow's words were always ringing, echoing, in his mind. _

"You were the one who killed her."

"_I know," Ichigo whispered. "I know." _

_He wouldn't ever let himself forget.

* * *

_

_**He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well. ~ **__**John Milton

* * *

**_

After that day my life changed completely. But it didn't happen all at once: it came in stages.

Kurosaki fucked my life up. It was all his fault. He was the root of all my problems.

Because of him, I was expelled from school.

Because I was expelled from school, my mother tired of me.

My parents got a divorce.

She moved back to Germany, with the toy-boy she had been cheating on my father with for years. She left me alone with dad, who was, for lack of a better word, _broken._ He had no time for me.

We moved to Tokyo.

I went to a new school.

And then I met Mr. Toyama, I met Aizen, and they changed my life too.

But not for the better.

And it was all Kurosaki's fault. He started all of it. It was because of him that my life was a pile of shit.

Because of him, because of that chain reaction he caused, _everything_ had gone wrong.

My mother lived on the other side of the world.

My dad was always tired and overworked and I hardly ever saw him.

I worked for a creepy megalomaniac fuck with delusions of godhood and who bought the shittiest tea I've ever tasted in my life.

I was fucked up.

My life was fucked up.

_Everything was fucked up. _

Everything had started to go downhill, beginning from that day, _because of Kurosaki._

That first meeting was a little like a reunion between old friends – I knew that we both felt those old feelings rise up again, choking, stifling; like we were magnets that repulsed and attracted each other at the same time. I hated him. He hated me. The air was thick with it, and the whole class was silent now.

Kurosaki's friends surrounded him and I thought, _What a pussy. Always needing someone else to save him._

But I told myself I'd get my revenge, that I'd have no problem getting under the little shit's skin second time round. And then it'd be just like before.

I smiled at the thought. I hadn't forgotten a word he'd said to me during that fight so long ago. He would pay for what he had said, for what he had done. It was almost too good to be true: a perfect opportunity for revenge.

It would have been easy, I told myself. Teenagers are probably the most conformist, close-minded beings on the planet, and I thought that if I did the right things, said the right things, then they would all be eating out of the palm of my hand.

I may have been a shadow of my former self, but I when I develop a grudge I hold it and keep it strong.

I had the strength of conviction on my side. I had my anger, I had my hatred, and I would use them against him.

Kurosaki was back in my life and I would destroy him again.

I can't tell you how my mood lifted when I saw his eyes turn so sharp and bitter at the sight of my face. His fists were clenched, his face was white – yeah, nothing had changed. He was still afraid. He could bark, but there was no fucking bite.

I knew I could twist him any way I wanted. It would be easy. An insult there, a reference to his_ poor dead mommy _there – hah, my job would be done in weeks.

And, oh, I couldn't _wait._


	4. segue: a child and a king

"_Ichigo?" _

_Isshin waited outside his son's bedroom door, but there was no answer from within, so he entered. Ichigo was sitting on the floor, cross-legged and staring out the window, the sunset bright on his stony face. He looked his father's way and Isshin fought the urge to shrink away from the sight of the bottomless black pits his son's eyes had become. _

"_Ichigo, dinner's ready." _

"_I'm not hungry." _

_He attempted a smile.__ "Heh, you don't have to worry, I didn't cook. Jyuushirou came over and dropped something off for us-" _

"_I said I'm not hungry." _

"_Ichigo," He sat down next to his son, smoothed the wayward orange hair; his smile faded when Ichigo jerked away from his touch, scowling darkly. _

"_I'm not hungry, dad." _

"_But you need to keep up your strength-" _

"_Then I'll eat later!" Ichigo yelled, his control snapping. "I'm fine, OK? Just leave me alone!" _

_There was a moment of silence and then Isshin nodded, rising to his feet slowly. _

"_OK," he said quietly.__ "Just come down when you want. I'll heat it up again for you." _

_Ichigo stared ahead, biting his lip, something inside him tearing apart. He wanted to apologize to his father. He wanted to run him through with a spear. He wanted to curl up inside his mother's arms, like he used to after a bad dream, but he couldn't. He couldn't do any of it. He wasn't even able to cry – the tears just would not come. He didn't know what to say. _

_Isshin was at the door when he heard the small voice call for him. _

"_Dad?" _

_He froze.__ "What is it, son?" _

"_What am I going to do about school now?"_

_Ichigo's voice was so helpless. Isshin wordlessly crept back to his side and brushed back that vibrant hair again. This time Ichigo didn't move away, and he felt it again, just as he had when he had seen his son for the very first time: an overwhelming rush of love for this tiny child, his son, the boy Masaki had died for. He would be dishonoring her memory if he let anything happen to Ichigo or the girls. He would have to do his best, even if it meant soldiering on alone. _

_Isshin crushed his son to his chest, not caring that Ichigo didn't react, pressed against him limply. _

"_We're just going to have to sort that out later, OK?" _

"_OK." Ichigo's voice was muffled but it didn't waver. _

_Isshin squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to cry. "Still not hungry?" _

_The small figure enfolded in his arms shifted. "Maybe a bit," Ichigo admitted. _

"_A bit, huh?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_Want something to eat? Jyuushirou brought chocolate cake too. You can have it for dessert." _

"_OK." _

_Isshin smiled down at his son and picked him up, cuddling him. Ichigo didn't protest, but Isshin knew this was the last time he would be able to do this for his little boy. Whatever else he could do to help him, he would. Nothing was too much for his first-born child. To fulfill that promise was the least he could do for Masaki now. _

* * *

_A proud smile bloomed on Isshin's face as he watched Ichigo, a tender young thing of twelve years old, defeat an opponent at least two or three years older than himself in less than half a dozen blows, each coming hard and fast and as effortlessly as breathing. He saw Ichigo's face transformed from a mask of resolute concentration to one of acute embarrassment as hordes of students surrounded him, talking excitedly, awed and envious. He saw Ichigo's mood change into annoyance and amused tolerance as his friends – Isshin noted the Kuchiki girl and Abarai amongst them – pushed through the crowd to grab him and haul him away to rejoin their little group in the corner of the large practice room. He almost missed Yoruichi's mutters from beside him. _

"_Amazing. To think, he's progressed so much in just a few years…" _

_Isshin felt that face-splitting grin take over again. "Well, that's my son for you. I told you he would be good!" _

_Yoruichi still looked like she couldn't believe her eyes. "But he's only twelve. And even after all these years he still looks as ridiculous as ever." _

"_It's the hair, right?" _

"_Undoubtedly." _

_The grin turned slightly melancholy. "He may look the same, but he's not. Not on the inside. Trust me." _

"_I know," She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Three years tomorrow, am I right?" _

"_Very much so." _

"_Everyone will know where you are. Don't bother telling them." _

"_As blunt as ever, Shihouin-sensei!" _

_She sniggered.__ "You know you love it."_

_They continued to observe the lesson in silence. Ichigo had been approached by his former opponent – Hisagi Shuuhei, if Isshin remembered correctly – and the two were now chatting quite happily. Well, Hisagi was chatting. Ichigo was really just listening and nodding when appropriate; his eyes were glazed over and his father could tell he was tired and cranky after a long day at school. _

_It was hardly surprising; even after three whole years of spending each and every day at school, living there and attending lessons and only seeing his father and sisters at weekends, Ichigo hadn't quite gotten used to life at Isshin's old school. He knew that his dad had been a former student and teacher, and was still highly respected and skilled – he also knew that he had been expected to follow in his father's footsteps (but not to this extent, he was willing to bet) but he couldn't really adjust to it: not the consistently phenomenally high expectations, the fact that he had to share every minute detail of his life with hundreds of other boys and girls (and never through choice) and it was too strict, too orderly, too…much. _

_He had poured his heart and soul into this school, into making his father proud, into making himself a person that his mother would have been proud of. But three years were enough. He wanted to go back home. _

_When he told his father, Isshin was only too happy to agree. _

* * *

"_So __it looks like you're leaving."_

_Renji started every conversation with a blatantly obvious observation. It used to irritate Ichigo but now he was used to it. _

_He scowled as he stuffed another shirt into his already-overfull suitcase. "Yeah. It's the end of the school year in two weeks anyway. I won't be missing much." _

"_Except the fireworks," Renji argued. "They always have awesome fireworks here." _

"_And the street festivals," another voice piped up. "Don't forget that." _

_Ichigo turned around, eyebrows raised. "Rukia, this is the boys' dorm. How did you get in here?" _

_She looked prim and smug as she settled onto his bed like she owned it. "I have my means." _

"_Uh-huh," Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever. I'm not staying any longer. I'm leaving tomorrow." _

"_Tomorrow?" Renji shouted.__ "You asshole! Why didn't you tell us sooner?" _

_He shrugged.__ "Just decided to leave today. My dad's OK with it. I'll be going to a middle school near home now, instead of having to live in here and go to school with you freaks." _

"_Who're you calling a freak?" a new voice demanded. "Like you can talk with that stupid hair of yours!" _

"_Ikkaku, I thought you were still sparring with Kenpachi." Ichigo's brown eyes looked over at the door to the room, where one of his roommates and best friends was standing. _

_The other boy grimaced and rubbed his arm gingerly. "He beat me again." _

"_Not surprising, considering that he's like thirty years older than you are." Ichigo said. "And he never holds back, not even for kids." _

_Ikkaku's scowl darkened. Ichigo noticed that his head looked shinier than it had of late, and wondered if he had shaved it again. He felt a burning desire to ask if Ikkaku had even had hair at all or if he had been genetically preprogrammed to go through life without a hair on his head. Or anywhere else, as far as Ichigo knew. But the last person to ask that had ended up with a dislocated kneecap so he gave it up. _

_They went down to eat dinner together. News had spread like wildfire throughout the school that Kurosaki Ichigo, the orange-haired prodigy, was leaving school the next day. Ichigo was faced with dismayed wails from most of his teachers ("Why, Kurosaki-kun? So much raw talent and power going to waste!") and disbelieving yet playful teasing from his friends, who insisted on holding a secret party in his dorm later that night. _

_It was nothing like he had expected, mostly because he fell asleep halfway through it and couldn't remember what happened during the majority of the time, but Renji and Ikkaku reassured him that it had been thoroughly enjoyable and no one was going to forget his name for a good while yet. Ichigo didn't ask. _

_When he left his home of the last three years it was surprisingly anticlimactic. Only a few people had bothered to wake up in time to say goodbye and in the end Ichigo was driven away by his dad, waving to the two or three children that had congregated in front of the school entrance to see him off. _

_He wasn't so sad. He would see them again. _

_

* * *

Mashiba Middle School hadn't been that bad so far. The usual schoolyard bullies approached him, the fights were more intense but he beat them all easily. They multiplied and after that it started becoming a little harder. Then he met Chad. _

"I'll fight for you and you'll fight for me. Is it a deal?"

_They were just fourteen. They didn't know what they were really promising. But they didn't regret it – at least, Ichigo knew he didn't. _

_He still saw Renji and Rukia and the rest of the gang regularly. They didn't live too far away, but he found himself missing the times where they could all just lie on the grass after a hard day, drinking in the sun and generally doing nothing. Ichigo still did that a lot, but it didn't feel the same. _

_Chad was never a replacement. He was a new friend entirely, and Ichigo found himself in possession of something he hadn't realized he'd been craving: stability. If Renji was fire and Rukia the wind that fanned him, if Rangiku was the bubbling waterfall and Ikkaku the electric storm, then Chad was most definitely the mountain. The rock. Ichigo needed him. _

_Ishida was just something else entirely. They were magnets: they repulsed and attracted each other. Chad said that it was because they were similar; Ishida said that that it was because Kurosaki was a contrary stubborn bastard and he was the only one who could talk sense into him and that was all there was to it. Ichigo preferred not to argue about the matter: it only encouraged him. _

_The days before his mother had died became a hazy distant dream. The nightmares were forgotten and all he could see was her smile, and it still drove a stake into his heart. _

"You were the one who killed her."

_He still hadn't forgotten. _

_**

* * *

Childhood is a promise that is never kept. ~**_** Ken Hill**

* * *

She didn't even say goodbye,_ he thought faintly. _She just left.

_Everything. Everything he had done his whole life had been for nothing: the hundred-percent scores, the perfect grades, the talent at sport and music, everything he had done to make her look at him. To see him. Vanished, gone, meaningless._

_Grimmjow stared at a framed picture of his mother that stood on the mantelpiece. He reached out and took it in his hands, dropped it to the floor; the glass cracked but did not shatter. He took another, and threw it on top of the first. Soon he had a pile of them, broken glass, twisted metal, crumpled memories – all at his feet. He took it and dumped it in a trash can, added his expensive school uniform, his school reports, his fucking violin. Everything she had made him do. Everything she had molded him to be._

_He burned it all._

_Everything she was would be gone. Trying to prove himself to her had been meaningless. They didn't see him at all, they hardly looked, or paid attention. Meaningless._

_He was past tears. They had disappeared years ago. He was eleven years old now, and he didn't need his mother._

_She, and everything she stood for, was nothing to him now._

* * *

"_Jaegerjaques-kun? Are you all right?"_

_Grimmjow felt every muscle tense. The butterfly-beat of his heart deafened him. His face burned._

"_Yes," he said, not meeting his teacher's eyes – such pretty eyes, so dark and large and soulful, like the world had hurt him but he still _believed_ in it – and Grimmjow cringed away from his presence._

_It was not good. It was not right, to feel this way. He was not just a teacher, but he was a _man._ Grimmjow knew it was unnatural. Freakish. Like-_

_Orange hair seemed to fill his vision. Was this what Kurosaki had felt like? Caged? Miserable? Angry – at himself, at everyone else?_

_It was not right. Not right. He was wrong wrong wrong, he couldn't feel this way, what would his mother think-_

_A large hand covered his. The skin was soft and warm, and it was soothing. Those eyes…Grimmjow loved those eyes. His heart twisted at the thought. _

_He hated him. He hated him, that kind, gentle man; the thick glasses, the wayward hair, the scar on his chin. His eyes, and the way they looked at Grimmjow like he was a person in his own right, not just his mother's son. Not just a trophy. Not just something to be polished and showed off and admired. A _person.

"_Jaegerjaques-kun? Please tell me if something, anything, is wrong. I am always here to help. Please regard me kindly as a friend."_

_Grimmjow could not look at him.__ "Yes, Toyama-sensei."_

_He thought, _Is this love? Is this what it's like?

_It terrified him._

_

* * *

Alcohol is good._

_And I like this pot stuff too._

_It relaxes me._

_Makes me forget._

_I can act like I really am. Like Grimmjow. Not like her son. Like me, like who I want to be._

_I'm cold._

_The sake's run out._

_I can't be assed getting up and buying some more. Not that I bought it in the first place. I just took it and ran._

_I saw him again. __Toyama-sensei. I saw his face and I wanted to kill him. To rip his heart out, to make his chest gape open, stick my hand in his skull and scramble his brains around. Mess him up. _

_Mess him up like he messed me up._

_I don't like these cigarettes. Maybe it's just the brand. They make me feel like I've swallowed dirt and oil and shit. But I stick with it. It's fate – I found a full lighter one day on the street, and ten minutes later I found a whole unlit cigarette._

_Destiny._

_I don't hear from her. She calls, but I don't take them. Dad tries to make me talk to her, but she only talks in German now. She always hated speaking Japanese. _

_Well, fuck her._

_She can rot in hell._

_So can dad._

_Toyama-sensei._

_The teachers._

_The students._

_Fuck them all. I hate them. I would kill them in an instant and not care._

_The guys…I don't like them much either. I just meet them hanging around in packs, smoking and scowling and making trouble. I have blue hair. I fit right in._

_All this new stuff._

_This new world._

_Alcohol. Pot. Ecstasy. _

_Meth. Cocaine. _

_Heroin._

_Girls._

_I fucked so many of them I lost count. How many, in those years?_

_I tried to fix myself._

_It didn't work._

_And of course there was Aizen. A friend of a friend of a friend._

_The way he looked reminded me of __Toyama-sensei. So I hated and loved him at the same time._

_I remember the first time I met him._

_I was lounging around somewhere dark and small and damp. I hadn't been home for days. I was cold. Wet. Hungry._

_Desperate._

_He stood tall and powerful. Invincible. He looked at me with the softest brown eyes and said the softest thing__s and held out his hand to me._

I know who you are_, he said._

_He said, _You're a smart boy.

You could be great.

Someone strong.

Unbeatable.

A king.

No one could hurt you.

_I liked that. It might have been the crack__ and the heroin, but I liked it._

_I was twelve fucking years old, what do you think I'd have done?_

"_Trash," a boy said. Older than me. Pale. Green eyes, with green markings down his face. Haughty. The saddest clown in the world._

_I'd seen his type every day. _

_People who looked down on me. People who said I was nothing. Just my parents' son._

_Worthless. Nothing. _

_Trash._

_I'll show _you_ trash, you little-_

_I'll fucking show you all._

_I'll be unbeatable._

_Invincible._

_A king._

_A _king.

* * *

_Things get out of control._

_I'm only fifteen years old and I already know that i__t's a fact of life. _

_They snowball._

_Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing._

_But most of the time I simply don't care._

_Life is just one day after another. Nothing special._

_Meaningless._

_Just like it's always been._


	5. numb

**ad****·****dic****·****tio****n **_noun_

the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

* * *

So I'll tell you why it all tailed off.

Why I failed.

Why Kurosaki won out.

See, it's called _heroin._

I'm sure you've heard of it. Dope, horse, junk, mud, skag, smack; sometimes brown, sometimes white, sometimes black. You snort it, you smoke it, you inject it – all sorts of fun. I discovered it when I was twelve years old. Too young, do you think?

Not young enough, I'd say.

So, I was twelve. I'd been fooling around. I was experimenting. I didn't go to school anymore – I used to be the top student but that had all fallen by the wayside now – so I used that precious time wandering around with guys I met trying out new and interesting things.

Fun things.

Dangerous things.

It all changed when I meet a freaky guy with a weird name – _Nnoitra Jiruga._

He takes me aside and grins at me knowingly -

He hands me strange little pills and tells me how much they're worth -

He shows me how to snort crack properly so that it doesn't fly all over the place and I don't waste it –

Useful little life skills that you don't get taught in school.

The first time I tried heroin, though, he wasn't there. I'd seen him do it. I knew what to do.

In theory, at least.

The basics: first, clean the surface where you're gonna melt the stuff: a spoon is best, I've found.

So, place a chunk of heroin on your spoon.

Add a little water.

Heat it up until it turns to liquid.

Now, get a tiny little bit of cotton wool and drop it in the spoon. It'll puff up. Get your syringe and stick it in the middle, then draw the plunger out so that the liquid gets sucked up.

Then, the hard part.

You have to be careful when you're injecting. A lot of shit can go wrong here. A _lot_ of shit.

When I first did it, the needle didn't go in the vein. I pushed the plunger down; the skin burned. All I got for my effort was a huge fucking blister. It didn't go away for hours. I thought I was gonna be sick. I had to lie down.

I took some crack – it was the only way I could make myself feel better. It was probably not the best of ideas, in hindsight (actually, it could've killed me, since you're not meant to mix a stimulant and a depressant blah blah blah) but it was the only way I knew how to cope.

And see, that's how he found me.

Aizen, I mean.

So you might have heard of him – squeaky-clean philanthropist businessman, used to be head of this big corporation but broke away and created some company with a few other friends of his.

(Ichimaru Gin. Kaname Tousen. Remember those names.)

And you know, it was doing well. Just a few years old but it was growing. His company, it might have been pharmaceutical. It might have been financial. I didn't really care. I still don't.

He was getting more powerful.

But not just in the business world, if you know what I mean.

You should've seen the company he kept.

Creepy shits like Nnoitra. Stuck-up assholes like Ulquiorra Schiffer. Zommari Leroux, Arruniero Arleri, Barragan Luisenbarn. Just saying their names makes me feel sick.

As you can tell, they ain't quite Japanese. Don't know where the hell most of them are from. But it doesn't matter.

I join them.

I'm only twelve years old but he knows who I am. He knew my mother, he explains. A wonderful woman. Very strong. Very focused. Ruthless.

As soon as he says the words, that's when the hate starts.

_Don't mention my mother around me._

So he takes me to his office, he cleans me up, he introduces me to a few people. They dismiss me as a fucked-up little kid. Which I am.

But they made the mistake of underestimating me.

I'd only been around on the scene for a year or so. Or was it six months? I can't remember. It doesn't matter.

I'm smart, though. I was at the top of my classes at school. So it was only inevitable that I would become better known on the streets, because I'm intelligent when I wanna be. And supposedly he heard about it. Was impressed. Remembered who I was.

And that's how it all started.

Ah - but I've fucked up and strayed from the subject a little.

So.

Let's get back on track, yeah?

Kurosaki.

How it started was that I swore I was gonna get my revenge. I plotted. I planned. I even went to school – to scope him out, see. A target needs to be observed before plans can be set into motion.

He was never fucking alone.

Always surrounded by those retards.

That made it a little harder.

I kept on taking the drugs.

That made it a _lot_ harder.

So, really, my first plan had just been to turn people against him. Spread rumors. Shit like that. It ain't hard.

OK, look, I've never fucking claimed to be a master tactician. I know what I've just described was a pile of shit. Things are never that simple. To completely tear someone down, you need time. You need precision. You need effort. And considering that I'd spent the best part of the last three or four years pretty much fucking around on the streets, let me tell you that those things were kinda hard to come by.

And Kurosaki had _changed._

I could only describe myself as _dissatisfied,_ because instead of being the weakly crybaby I remembered from elementary school, what I saw now was this surly, short-tempered teenage dickhead with a permanent frown and no sense of humor. At first, he was blunt and rude and obviously didn't give a shit about anyone else's opinions. He talked back to the teachers, frightened even the toughest guys at school, scowled at everyone – fuck, it was _weird,_ seeing him like that.

_And_ he had friends. Ishida, Sado, that lesbian Arisawa…the misfits and loners all seemed to deviate to him.

Fine. I suppose a person can change a lot in six years, but that was just too much for me. I mean, if he actually had friends who stuck by him, how would this work?

Fucking ridiculous.

I didn't give up though. Not for a while. I compiled mental notes and went through strategy after strategy, and then, one day, I finally acted.

A preliminary maneuver.

I don't really know what for, but I just wanted to get my hands on Kurosaki and grind him into a pulp.

June. Two months after the beginning of the school year. It was sunny, and he and his little gang were on the roof having lunch, as usual. The sun beat down on my head, and it made the back of my neck prickle – I don't like the sun. It always gives me this unpleasant sleepy feeling, like I need to take a nap. Irritating.

But that day I ignored it. I walked towards Kurosaki and his friends, slowly, casually; their level of conversation faded and finally came to a standstill as I stopped a few yards away from them, hands in my pockets, staring right into Kurosaki's disgusting muddy eyes.

It was Abarai who spoke first. Asshole. "What do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?" I countered easily. "Maybe I just wanna be out in the nice sunshine, eating my lunch. You think about that?"

"You don't have any food with you," Kuchiki pointed out.

I didn't like her at _all,_ the uppity little bitch. I didn't like any of them. They made my stomach churn with disgust.

I ignored her interruption and focused on Kurosaki, who was staring at me – and that cold, deep contempt in his eyes made my temper flare. He always riled me up, that little shit. The look in his eyes sent a flood of hatred and resentment simmering into my mind and I sneered, drawing myself up to my full height.

"Should've known you'd be so fucking pathetic, Kurosaki, hiding behind your little buddies. Think they can help you now?"

He said nothing. Neither did his friends, and I felt a surge of hostility break out from their ranks and push towards me like a wave.

Idiots. They think a few angry stares can put me off?

Fucking amateurs.

"We have a score to settle, asshole," I ground out. "Don't fucking forget it."

Kurosaki cocked his head, "I don't get it. I don't remember anything about you apart from the fact that you made my life hell for three years, and then you broke my arm and we both got expelled. Oh, and that you were a complete goddamn psychopath and that it looks like you still are."

Oh, he was fucking_ asking _for it.

I was on him in a flash, hands around his throat - I could feel his pulse, see the surprise and anger in those disgusting eyes, could feel him choke and thrash-

Someone pulled me off. It was Sado. God_damn, _he was just about seven fucking foot and built like a fucking tank, I kicked and swore and pulled all I could and he just stood there and held my arms behind my back like it was nothing-

Abarai pulled Kurosaki up from the floor. Kurosaki's face was red, and he scowled more deeply than ever.

"Chad," he said. "Let him go. He's not worth it."

"Fuck you!" I spat. "Come fight me like a real man, you stupid pussy!"

He just stared at me again, his expression a mask of disdain. It made my blood boil. It made me want to rip his heart out and stuff it down his throat, break every single bone in his body, blow his brains out with a gun – if Sado had let me go at that moment I would've thrown myself at Kurosaki again.

But the fucker didn't. He kept holding me back. He said, "Don't make me throw you to the other side of the roof."

He meant it. I knew he did.

It was useless to fight back.

And I needed another hit.

It had been too long.

Fuck, I could feel it already. The nausea. The cramps. The aches in my bones. I thought was gonna puke there and then.

I stopped struggling. Kurosaki gave me one last condescending look before leaving the roof, his friends following him. Sado let me go, and within minutes I was alone: then I let myself drop to my knees, panting. Cold sweat broke out on my skin. I tried to swallow, and almost passed out. Fuck, where was Nnoitra when you needed him-

I went back home. The house was empty, but that was no surprise at all. What else could I have expected?

Everything was kept in my room, in a box in my wardrobe. I locked myself in. I drew the curtains. My hands were shaking.

Cooking it up didn't even take a few minutes anymore. I was experienced. I knew what I was doing now, and I knew exactly the right size lump to use and how much water to add and how long to heat it – even if I'd been on a shitty car driving along a road full of potholes and bumps, I could've done it all without spilling a drop.

I pulled up my pant leg – I couldn't find a vein in my arm anymore – and when it hit I felt it like a tidal wave.

My head lolled back against my bed. I dropped the needle out of my hand.

The world swirled and faded around me, and nothing seemed to matter.

Nothing.

Not Aizen, not Kurosaki, not my family.

Nothing but the heat and the euphoria pumping through my blood.

I could've been set on fire and not noticed. It felt like I was wrapped in a thousand blankets, warm and safe and secure.

When I was like that, I could do anything, be anyone.

That's what it was like.

That's why I kept on doing it.

I only tried to stop the habit when-

When Aizen called me the next day, in the morning. It was six o' clock. I was hungover. I really did _not_ appreciate the fact that his voice was the first thing I heard.

"_Grimmjow,"_ he started, getting right to the point. _"I've been hearing some displeasing things."_

I stayed silent. He'd say what he wanted to say, and didn't care what I thought about it. He seems nice at first, Aizen does, but it's a façade. I learned that pretty soon after I met him.

His voice carried on, soft but deadly,_ "Nnoitra tells me that you've been consuming more and more of the merchandise, Grimmjow. It's not a nice thought."_

He said 'merchandise' like hard drugs are little toys they sell at Disneyland.

"_Do you have anything to say?"_

"Yeah," I said. "Next time I see Nnoitra I'm gonna smash that fuck-ugly face of his into the nearest wall."

A dangerous pause. Then: _"I'm very disappointed with you. You had real potential. I brought you under my protection because I thought you were a diamond who could shine with just a little guidance. Education. But, maybe I've been mistaken. Maybe I should leave you to your own devices. Cut off the contacts you've made. Tell every dealer within a hundred-mile radius to steer clear-"_

Fuck, he can't do that! "Hey, wait a minute-"

"_I want you to stop it,"_ he said coldly. _"I tolerated it at first. It was infrequent. It didn't distract you from your job. But now, it's gotten too much. Cut down within a month."_

The 'or else' part of that speech was left unspoken but hanging in the air, and he hung up. I knew what he could, what he _would_, do to me if I dared disobey him. He valued me, but only when I worked and didn't fuck myself up.

At first I'd only been a convenient connection to my mother, who he was interested in, and when he learned that she and I didn't have the best of relationships, he almost dumped me.

But I proved myself. See, I don't like that people see only my parents when they look at me. I don't like being just an extension of the fucking family name.

So I work hard to prove that I have my own worth.

I had street smarts. Contacts, through my parents. Intelligence. Cunning. I put them to good use. I showed myself to be useful. He started taking an interest again.

And not in my family.

In _me._

So as much as I hated Aizen for his pompousness and his slick superiority, I didn't want to lose his support. He and the others were the only sort of family I had, anymore.

And even if I hated all of their guts, even if I wouldn't have hesitated to kill them all if they pissed me off enough, it was something.

* * *

**_A junkie is someone who uses their body to tell society that something is wrong._ ~ Stella Adler**

* * *

I'll admit, I got lazy. Months passed and my efforts had proven to be entirely fucking fruitless, but really, most of that was my fault.

It was the drugs, mostly. And I was busy with other stuff, stuff that Aizen considered more important than my 'petty grievances'.

So I didn't go to school that much.

I did Aizen's dirty work instead, to get back into his good graces: I beat up the people he wanted me to beat up. I intimidated the people he wanted me to intimidate. I organized things he wanted me to organize.

And yeah, I was only sixteen, whatever. But what does age matter? I was good at what I did. He knew that. He recognized it.

So I started working more.

School went on the back burner. So did my revenge, in a way.

OK, so when I went there I did _try_ to bring Kurosaki down. At least gimme that. I pulled out all the tricks I knew –

Trouble was, that shit was for six year olds.

Everyone here was at least fifteen or sixteen. Older. Supposedly wiser. And annoyingly immune to my bullshit.

And you know, they could tell that I was an addict. I was trouble. I was weird. They didn't hang around with me, because I freaked them out. I wasn't popular, I wasn't listened to, I wasn't even liked that much.

It made everything _that much fucking harder._

And of course, so did Kurosaki himself. Because he, frankly, didn't give a shit. He hung out with his friends. He went out and partied with them, got drunk, came to school with hangovers, scared the wannabe yakuza, did well in tests, and he didn't pay attention to rumors anymore.

Worms in his lunch wouldn't cut it.

Mud in his bag was just fucking juvenile.

It was frustrating. More than frustrating. I just wanted to rip him apart, but I was too weak – and that really pissed me off.

I tried. God knew I tried. But over the months I could see that, for some reason, Kurosaki was becoming _popular._

It was undeniable.

He was tall and broad-shouldered and muscular, with tanned skin and what you could consider good looks. He was smart. He was good at sports. I saw girls start to giggle over him. I even saw Ayasegawa, that camp freak that always irritated me, glance at his ass once or twice.

And at first Kurosaki had some bad-boy, I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude, but when he and Abarai started pulling goofy pranks, people didn't think they were so scary anymore. When Kurosaki started smiling and laughing at the jokes his friends told, people started to relax a little more around him. When he opened doors for people and helped them in class, they started to like him. So in that sort of situation, my tricks were useless.

He'd changed more deeply than I realized at first, see. In elementary school, he had been weak, and that was the root of my success.

But the tables had turned and now_ I_ was the weak one.

It was a bitter realization to swallow. You can't even imagine how fucking pissed I was.

People liked him. They admired him. They started to think he was _cool._

And then there was Abarai.

The stupid fuck was more than insane. He was as smart as a potato, and as good-looking to boot; he was loud, obnoxious, irritating, and every time I saw him he wanted to pulverize the bastard until his whole body turned into nothing but shreds of flesh clinging to that ridiculously garish red hair of his. He was one of Kurosaki's best friends, and he made the prick laugh like I had never seen.

That _laughter._

It transformed Kurosaki's face. That laughter turned him into a person I had never known, and could never touch.

And Kurosaki could afford to laugh like that because of _them._ Because of his stupid fucking friends, that always stuck by him and watched his back and fucking supported him. And those friends destroyed the terrifying reputation he had earned in middle school as a gangster and a punk and a criminal – and those friends reduced him into just Kurosaki Ichigo, some stupid harmless punk with ridiculous hair.

Summer through to fall through to winter.

I saw all of my hard work undone.

I saw Kurosaki smile more than he used to.

I saw him relax more and more when he was around his crazy friends.

People greeted him in the halls with a friendly wave, saying _Hi, Kurosaki-kun!_ and _What's up, Kurosaki?_ and they asked his advice about fashion and schoolwork and sports and they joked with him and laughed, they went out drinking with him and _they looked up to him._

It all drifted further and further away from me. I couldn't reach out and touch him, let along bring him down. He had power. I had none. Like a current, pulling me downstream and under the water, I was just about helpless.

After that, in only a couple of short months, I was hardly in the picture anymore. I sunk into the background of my enemy's life, and into that of the high school in general, until I was just the delinquent with the weird hair that showed up only once in a blue moon.

But still, I didn't give up. I'm not a pussy.

As bitter as it made me feel, I had to admit that I stopped trying to ruin him when he finally beat me.

So.

A dark night.

Cold, frost on the streets.

I was alone. Aching. Craving another hit. But I saw him, walking ahead of me, going home after some night out with his friends, and my heart jumped. His hair was visible from hundreds of yards away.

He was alone too. And he was listening to music, gaze blank and staring ahead at nothing. He didn't see me.

I saw my chance, and took it.

So I stopped and stood still, thinking.

I wanted a fight.

I _needed _a fight.

But I don't fucking sneak up on people and attack them when their backs're turned. Only a pussy like Nnoitra or Ulquiorra would do that.

A stone was lying nearby. It was large, pointed, looked pretty fucking painful if thrown right. I picked it up.

Aimed.

Fired.

It missed by a whisker. I hadn't meant to hit him though. I just wanted his attention.

And boy did I get it. His reaction was instantaneous; he froze and whipped around to see who it was, ripping out the earbuds, and when his eyes landed on me, his scowl deepened so much I thought his eyes were going to turn into permanent little slits like Ichimaru Gin's. I just grinned at him.

"Kurosaki. Long time no see, yeah?"

"Grimmjow." He all but growled it out. It just made me smile wider.

"Remember we had a score to settle, Kurosaki? We sort it out now."

"I don't remember anything about a score," he said coolly. "You sure you're not just delusional?"

I couldn't believe it.

He didn't remember?

Fucker.

Now I was pissed. "Don't give me that shit. Remember that day?"

He rolled his eyes. "What day, Grimmjow? There are a lot of days I remember being around you. None of them were pleasant."

"That _last day,"_ I said, reliving the memory. The feel of that all-consuming rage. The look on his stupid, weak little tearful face. The words he said.

"Where we fought, remember?" I said. "Nine years old."

His eyes were just thin brown lines now. He knew what I was talking about.

"_-your mom doesn't like you-"_

I'll never forget.

"_-she's never liked you-" _

I'll never forgive him.

"_-she hates you even though she's your mother-" _

I was going to end it there.

That was where it was all going to be decided.

We looked at each other, and it was careful and assessing. I looked like shit, I knew that. But what did that matter?

What did anything matter apart from revenge?

Let's just say it didn't take long, though.

I dived at him, got my hands around his neck. His face went red, but he kneed me hard in the stomach and I thought he might have broken something. I punched him back, smashed my elbow into his jaw, tripped him up till he was on the ground. He jumped up faster than I'd expected and kicked my knee. Something cracked. I staggered back, swearing.

Short and sweet. It didn't last more than a couple of minutes, at most. I ended up thrown against a wall, his arm hard against my throat and blocking my air. I couldn't breathe. I could only pant and glare and mutter every swearword I knew and spit them in his face.

Those eyes.

Always so superior.

I'll kill him one day.

"I don't care what you have to say to me, Grimmjow. But don't bother me again," he hissed, arm pressing closer until I could only gurgle if I tried to breathe. "I'm not even kidding. Don't look at me. Don't come anywhere near me or my friends. Don't stir all this shit up again, do you hear me? I won't fucking take it. I'm not some weakling you can take down without a fight anymore."

I stared at him, murder filling me up.

I would've killed him without a moment of hesitation.

But the withdrawal-

I was too weak.

_Weak._

Never a word I thought I could apply to _myself, _of all people.

Kurosaki made me feel _weak._

And for that too, I didn't forgive him. Not for a long, long time.

He left me there. Lying on the ground, blood running down my face, curled up and wanting a hit so bad I would've killed someone for it.

The hunger, it was so bad, I didn't care anymore.

Nothing else mattered.

I crawled home. House was empty. Box was empty.

I lay in bed, shaking and shivering and hallucinating. I couldn't move.

I needed it so badly.

Who gave a shit about Kurosaki? Who cared? The shit could do what he wanted. I didn't care. What was he to me. Nothing. Nothingnothingnothing.

All I wanted, all I needed. I could smell it and feel it in my veins.

Fuck Kurosaki.

After that defining fight, I swapped school for ah, other activities. I'd never really played such an active role under Aizen's command before, but I got to be better known. What I really needed, beating Kurosaki couldn't give me. So I quickly found myself 'embroiled in the heady darkness of the criminal underworld'.

That's the way someone _wordy _would put it. Someone like Ulquiorra. Or Tousen.

But those two are delusional fuckers.

I was just having a good time, really. Dealing, robbing, fucking around, hurting and being hurt.

My lifestyle was hedonistic. Dangerous. Thrilling.

Addictive.

Lots of things were addictive, I'd learned that a long time before, but I didn't care anymore. Kurosaki was nigh untouchable. It wasn't worth it.

I'd tried, I'd tried so hard. For months and months and months. Nothing had worked.

It was a sign from providence to let it the fuck go.

So I did.

I gave up;

I shot up;

I sank back into sin.


	6. in vino veritas

**in vi⋅no ve⋅ri⋅tas**_ latin_

in wine there is truth.

* * *

The first real big event was just before school broke up for New Year. Maybe two or three weeks before that. Drugs were expensive, I knew that, everyone knew that, but I had to find a way of paying for them. I couldn't take Aizen's stuff, because he would behead me or something for it.

I had to find a way.

At first I couldn't think of anything, and Aizen offered me an obvious and almost temptingly easy solution but after the first second I refused to even think about prostitution.

Asshole.

I might've been a wreck and a shadow of my former self, but I still had my fucking dignity.

I refused to descend into such depths.

I would never give in to _that._

I would kill myself before I did.

So I did other stuff. Going to bars. Host clubs. Making deals, getting in touch with contacts, mingling. I have to say, it worked pretty well. I got what I wanted.

I was high again, when Kurosaki saw me then. High as a fucking kite. I'd given myself just a little more than I should've, just because I was so desperate for it.

But not enough to kill me. I was just...dazed. Out of it.

I think that was the only reason I didn't slaughter Kurosaki there and then.

I was lying against a wall, outside some gay bar. An alleyway, of course. That was the only place I seemed to hang out anymore. The man I'd gotten it from about ten minutes before, he came out, demanded his payment, took it.

It wasn't what I expected it to be, but I didn't protest.

I mean, he even paid me. Obviously thought I was some sorta rent boy or whatever.

I didn't really notice.

Again, I was completely fucking out of my head. He could've fucked me against the wall and I wouldn't have given a shit.

As it turned out, it didn't matter anyway. It didn't matter what he did to me, because for a long time I considered that one of the worst nights of my life.

And I wondered, why was it that whenever something terrible happened to me, Kurosaki was almost always there?

_**

* * *

Drinking makes such fools of people, and people are such fools to begin with, that it's compounding a felony.**_** ~ Robert Benchley**

* * *

I kind of figured out pretty soon that Grimmjow was on drugs. It was pretty obvious, really, but I hadn't noticed it at first because of all the shock of seeing him after so many years. I mean, if you looked at him closely you could see the signs: the dark shadows under his eyes, his sallow skin, his unnatural thinness. If he turned up at school, which was rare, I could see his hands shaking. I could see his unfocused gaze, his twitchy eyes. I knew the signs. My dad had treated enough addicts at the clinic, and soon I learned what to look out for so I could avoid them.

Everyone knew what he was into. I knew. It was a...surprise, to say the least. After knowing perfect model schoolboy Grimmjow for so long, seeing him so…_unhinged_...it really surprised me.

But it wasn't any of my business. His life and mine were totally separate, at that time. We had nothing to do with each other. Over the months his attendance at school got worse and worse until no one saw him around anymore, practically. I forgot about him. He was nothing more than an unpleasant reminder of my past, but he wasn't around anymore. And I was completely OK with that. I didn't give a flying shit about him. Not _then._

It's like I said before, though. Things happen. Things change you. Most of the time, you don't even realize it. And it's only afterwards that you look back and see that sometimes even the supposedly tiny, inconsequential thing you didn't think twice about was what changed the course of your whole life.

If I hadn't seen him that night-

I'll explain.

So I'm walking home after a night out. I'm drunk. Completely off my head – me and the guys had just finished celebrating our last few days of freedom before exam season began, and it had been wild. Ikkaku always knew how to throw a good party. He had invited old friends of ours from the Academy too, and that was why I was far more inebriated than I would usually be. Otherwise I wouldn't have said what I said.

Thinking about it still makes me feel ashamed. It's hard to retell it. But I guess I have to.

I can recall every detail with perfect clarity.

I've already explained that I was very, very drunk. Now, let me justify this: I don't like losing control. I don't like being stupid, I don't like doing things just because other people are doing them, and I don't like to justify the suspicions other people have about me just because of my hair by acting wild and irresponsibly. That's why I don't get drunk too often.

But when I'm with my friends, it's different. I would trust them with my life. I can let go with them. So, that night, I relaxed more than I had for a long time. I needed it. Finals were coming up in a few months, and we had to start studying hard soon. We wanted to enjoy what little liberty we had left.

As I was saying, I was walking home after Ikkaku's party. It was dark, and I was just strolling along down the street, minding my own business. I passed a shadowy, narrow little side-street and I sensed sudden movement. I don't wanna boast or anything (or maybe I do, haha) but a lifetime of learning how to fight had given me lighting fast reflexes which were impressive even when I was wasted. When I saw that movement I automatically hung back, peering around the edge of the wall and looking into those shadows.

And it's not enough to say I was shocked, or stunned. I would have probably passed out or something if I was sober. As it was, alcohol had dulled a great many of my mental faculties, so I could only stare in dumb surprise.

Grimmjow was lounging against a wall, obviously stoned out of his goddamn mind: his eyes were glassy and unfocused, his face pale and sweating, and he somehow seemed alert and lethargic at the same time. His hair was ruffled and I could see that he had a black eye and that his nose was bleeding. There was another person there, some dark figure I couldn't see clearly. But it was definitely a man, and he was talking to Grimmjow in a low murmur. They had a muted conversation. Grimmjow smiled lazily, although it looked strained beneath the surface, and held out his hand. The stranger shoved a wad of cash into it and then leaned forward and –

- and kissed Grimmjow.

OK, so you might be thinking that it's not _that _weird for a guy to kiss another guy. It might just be on the cheek or the forehead, they do it as a greeting in some parts of Europe (or so I've heard) but I'm not talking about a chaste kiss family members give to each other. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd give to a kid you were tucking in at night, oh fuck no. It was as on Grimmjow's mouth, and it was long and demanding and _Grimmjow was not pushing the man away._

That was what struck me most. He just stood there, unresisting. The stranger drew back, lightly touched Grimmjow's face, then disappeared behind a door I hadn't seen before. But I didn't really care about that. I was still reeling from the fact that I had just witnessed Grimmjow Jaegerjaques kissing a suspicious stranger – a suspicious _male _stranger who had_ paid_ him before he kissed him.

Grimmjow had not pushed the man away. He had reacted in a manner that I could quite easily work out as being _encouraging._

What other option do you think I could have come up with? I didn't know the context of it. To me, it made perfect sense to assume what I did. Teenagers often tried drugs experimentally, pressured by their friends. They often got addicted. They often couldn't afford to carry on the habit.

And, sometimes, do you know what the easiest option for a drug addict to earn money is?

I don't want to say it, but I have to, right? Otherwise you wouldn't understand. Prostitution is such an ugly word, isn't it? I hate thinking it, I hate saying it. I'm ashamed to admit that I thought Grimmjow was a prostitute. I should have known he would have more pride. But like I said, I didn't know him then. I didn't know the situation. All I could do was take what I was offered and come to my own conclusions.

And what I was given was the fact that Grimmjow did not seem disgusted or disturbed by the fact that he had been kissed by a man, but instead reacted by stuffing the money into a pocket and stared at the ground, seemingly dazed. He was so blasé, so unaffected by the whole thing, that I assumed that it was a commonplace occurrence. That he was used to it. That it was nothing, and he was used to worse.

I…

I don't know why I did what I did next.

His head snapped up when I stepped into the narrow alley. His blue eyes widened fractionally, then became like the eyes I'd seen before in animal corpses. He said nothing and slid down the wall until he was on the floor, and I just stared.

Fuck, this is where it gets bad.

"Well, Grimmjow, I have to say that I'm astounded."

My voice was soft and slurred together a little. As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth I became aware that I might as well have been channeling Ishida, because I sure as hell sounded exactly like the bastard.

But I was drunk and didn't care.

Most of me didn't care, anyway. And under the blanket of shock, which was now fraying and wearing thin, there was a malicious, unholy glee bubbling up inside of me. I became acutely aware of Grimmjow's resignation and lapped it up, suddenly remembering an occasion during the three years of hell Grimmjow had gifted me with when he had declared to the year (discreetly, of course) that I was a faggot, a queer, a disgusting unnatural freak – and I'd suffered the results of that for at least four or five months.

I remembered the insults and threats daubed inside my locker. The taunts and the laughing. Grimmjow had been feeling particularly vicious that time, apparently.

So the glee boiled over and evaporated and became rage.

But now, this; it was the perfect chance. I knew it. Vindictive triumph suffused every fiber of my body, melting and becoming one with the anger.

Rage makes me _poetic._

I smiled, then. "Hey, Grimmjow. Remember that time you told everyone I was gay, back in elementary?"

He just stared at me. He was so high it seemed he was half-dead.

"And do you remember how they wouldn't let me forget it? It must have been so funny for you, right?"

I was slurring my words together again. I frowned and cleared my throat, then glared at him with a black scowl.

"You mentioned something about settling a score, Grimmjow. I haven't fucking forgotten. You know why? Because it was so fucking hilarious. And you know why it's hilarious?" I crouched down and looked at him with serious eyes. "'Cuz you were the bastard that tried to ruin me. I did nothing to you."

The bitterness, festering, began to rise. I'm sure my eyes became black with it, and my voice became a snarl, "So yeah, go ahead and settle your fucking score. Come at me. Next time we fight it won't be like when we were nine, asshole, because I _will fucking kill you-"_

I broke off and paused, considering. I smiled. It must have looked wrong on my face.

"Maybe we don't need to fight," I said softly. "No, I don't think so. 'Cuz I have something pretty fucking juicy right here, you know?" I began to laugh, quietly at first, giggling and choking.

OK.

OK. Let's get things straight here.

Yes, a small part of me, the part that remained sober and clear-headed, was horrified at what I was saying, what I was doing - but that was overridden by the pure cruel euphoria spreading through every vein, the sweet knowledge that _Grimmjow _was the victim here, not me; _he_ was helpless and vulnerable this time. _He_ was the weak one. And he was-

I don't know why I laughed.

"A fucking prostitute!" I said, holding my sides and gasping with laughter. "That's what you are, right? And fucking hell, it's not even for women! You're gay, too! Shit!"

I recall that I dissolved into laughter again, falling to my knees and laughing until tears were streaming down my face.

(See. I told you it wouldn't be pretty. I told you it was bad. )

It still makes me sick to think of it.

At the time, my conscience was screaming at me to get up and apologize, telling me that this was no way to act to anyone, not even Grimmjow Jaegerjaques - a person deserved better than a stupid drunk sixteen year old laughing their guts out at the thought of prostitution-

And you know what?

I told my conscience to shut up.

But at least I stopped laughing. I stood up, stumbling a little, then looked at Grimmjow with a smile. I know if any of my friends had seen me they wouldn't have recognized me – but even I had my own little issues, yeah? At least give me that. And I hadn't quite gotten over them yet at that stage.

"I don't really know what else to say," I said. "No, wait, I do. Hah, you wanna hear it?"

He just looked at me. There was a flickering light in his eyes, like the embers of a fire, but I didn't pay any attention to that. I didn't notice his gaze getting a little clearer, or his fingers twitching, or his lips curling back in a snarl. I slumped against the wall and giggled drunkenly, and said, "So, enjoy having the thought of me telling everyone at school about your little extracurricular activities hanging over your head, OK?"

It was too much.

I didn't see him launch himself at me, not until he'd trapped me against the wall. It took me by surprise. I just blinked at him and scowled at the murderous expression on his face. "Wha's the problem now?"

"_I'll kill you."_

He didn't even shout it. He didn't have to. That tiny little whisper was enough to shock me back into anger – those glowing, feral eyes, those bared sharp teeth – like a rabid animal. He was a crazed beast. And I wasn't so stupid that I would go waving a red flag in front of a raging bull.

"Fuck you, Grimmjow."

He leered. "No thanks. You ain't my type."

His voice was like poison, but that brief burst of energy had been propelled by rage, and it was fading. He was lapsing back into that drug-induced sloth again. His grip on my shirt slackened. He stepped back, once, twice, until his back was against the opposite wall. He slid down to the ground, wild eyes never leaving my face. His chest was heaving. He was so pale. Those blue eyes, they looked too bright.

He was all…_wrong._ Lethargic. Submissive, for the most part. This was not the Grimmjow I knew. Not the foul-mouthed, hot tempered dickhead I'd always known him to be. I didn't like it. It upset the balance of the universe. It made me _angry._

I almost wanted to punch him. How dare he be so pitiable, so feeble? This was not Grimmjow. I didn't like it.

I wanted him to _fight back._

I had wanted my revenge for so long, and now, _this _was it? This was my challenge? This was what I had to fight?

I was disgusted, I'll be frank with you. Disappointed and disgusted.

Grimmjow's gaze went unfocused and his line of sight slid from me, eyes closing. His head lolled to the side. He was barely breathing. God, his skin was so drawn and white it looked like he was wearing a mask or something. It was obvious that he'd taken just that little too much. He seemed almost dead.

I should have been worried about him. But I really, really wasn't. I couldn't have cared less if he'd died, at that moment.

So I turned and walked away.

* * *

The next morning it was Sunday, and I was irritated and hungover and could hardly remember anything. I got up about ten, washed and had breakfast, and by the time midday rolled around I was just about fully conscious and able to think clearly. But then I remembered what had happened the last night.

I won't waste words, I was utterly fucking sickened when I thought about the whole thing. There weren't words to describe it: a gut-wrenching feeling of self-disgust and disbelief, anger, guilt, resentment – some concoction of conflicting emotions that bubbled and seethed under the surface of my skin for the next week.

It was a hideous situation made all the worse because I was horrified to realize that everything I'd said was the truth, and that yes, I had _enjoyed_ the feeling of being superior to Grimmjow, whether morally or otherwise, for those few short minutes. I had _wanted_ Grimmjow to suffer- for everything he had said or done to me, for being such an asshole, for being so weak, just for being alive.

And I was terrified by the thought that a tiny part of me had liked saying those words.

I knew that Grimmjow must have felt giddy, drunk with the sight of someone else's pain, back in the days when he was still a four-foot-high brat with too much power and too little love, that he probably hadn't changed into a better person. But I wasn't Grimmjow, I never wanted to be and if I had the choice I never ever would be. My mother had died to save me and I would not let her down.

I'd had hurt him, most likely. His angry response had been proof of that. I resolved to talk to Grimmjow about it later, maybe apologize, explain – then if he hadn't sliced me into mincemeat I would forget it had ever happened. I would never poke my nose into his business again and would leave him and his personal life alone for the rest of eternity.

So, I rehearsed it. I ran it over in my head, tweaking some phrases, adding others, removing and changing words to make myself sound defiant and apologetic at the same time. Of course I hadn't meant what I said. I'd been drunk – completely out of my head. It was the alcohol talking.

And anyway, what did Grimmjow expect? That everything that had happened when we were kids would be forgiven and forgotten about without a word? That I was some kind of Jesus figure, eternally forgiving and compassionate and understanding? Fuck that, I was human like anyone else, I had my moments of stupidity and cruelty and weakness…yes, of course prostitution was not something to be taken lightly, but I mean, couldn't he have done something else? Like flipping burgers? Stacking shelves? Prostitution was hardly the first thing a person thought of when they were trying to find a part-time job to help bring in money…

After a week of endless rewriting it was almost perfect. I was ready to confront. Or be confronted; the second option was honestly more likely.

My only problem was that Grimmjow hadn't turned up at school since that fateful evening. It was a blessing and a curse: I didn't have to put up with the annoying bastard, but my conscience wouldn't stop bugging me until the matter was settled. I'd almost talked myself out of feeling ashamed or guilty, too, but then it all went and got ruined because the object of my nightmares randomly decided to attend classes one day and ambush me.

I told myself I really should have expected it. Fate had it in for me.

He took me by surprise, an hour or so after school. I had a detention for Physics and I was the only one by the lockers. Everyone else had gone home or was at their after-school clubs.

It was stupid of me to have expected Grimmjow to have forgotten it. The asshole had an excellent memory for things that pissed him off.

"So," he said, looking down at me with frighteningly blank eyes. "You think you've got one on me, do you dickhead?"

I glared right back and considered my situation: Grimmjow was holding me by the collar with both hands and had slammed me up against the wall. He was amazingly strong for an emaciated sixteen-year-old drug addict. I could feel a dangerous pressure being exerted on my chest and knew that Grimmjow could easily snap a rib or two if he wanted to. I was helpless enough. He was furious enough.

But fuck that. Someone like me did not take shit like this lying down.

I was tempted to let it spiral into a full-blown battle, but I knew that we'd end up maiming each other at best, so I searched desperately for a way of defusing the situation. Before I could decide on one, though, Grimmjow spoke again.

"So you think you're fucking king of the hill now? Just 'cause you happened to see me that night?" he snarled, a feral expression that, strangely enough, suited him. "Don't make me laugh, douchebag. That doesn't mean a fucking thing. You knowing about that doesn't make a difference."

His tone changed and leaned forward, intense and dangerous, and he breathed: "But you know what would really piss me off? You skipping around the school like the little asswipe you are, telling everybody about _my little extracurricular activities._ You're still alive 'cuz you haven't done that yet, Kurosaki, and don't get me wrong, I'm thankful. Really. But if you ever decide to open your fat mouth and let it slip one day, I'll kill you in your fucking sleep. You hear me?"

My lips curled into a sneer in response. "Please. Don't make me laugh. The only reason I haven't told anyone yet is because I'm thinking of the best way to humiliate you properly."

Grimmjow's scowl darkened, and I thought I felt a few of my bones creak in protest as more weight was pressed against them. The air was thick and heavy with malicious tension. It was suffocating.

"Threatening me won't work," I spat. "You can bark, asshole, but don't try and make me believe you can bite too!"

"I can do both, don't doubt that. Don't tempt me, Kurosaki, because _I will kill you,"_ Grimmjow whispered. "I seriously will."

The bastard was one hundred percent truthful. I decided not to push my luck any further, because even though I can be rash and thoughtless at the worst of times, I really thought I could see something dark and sinister in Grimmjow's blue eyes – it was something not human, and it persuaded me not to give in to my animal instincts and beat the living daylights out of him.

"All right then, Grimmjow. Give me a reason not to tell everyone from here to Okinawa about your dirty little secret."

He stared at me distrustfully before loosening his hold on my collar. I straightened and brushed myself off nonchalantly, before looking at Grimmjow with what I hoped was a challenging glint in my eyes.

"Well?" I said. "Go on."

He considered it for a moment, his gaze wandering – I saw him looking at the board on the wall where the scores for the latest round of exams were presented, and he scowled. "Fine. A bet. If I win you tell no one. If you win you can do whatever the fuck you like."

"With no repercussions?"

Grimmjow looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "No repercussions."

"Huh." I wondered if he was being serious. What kind of retard would use a _bet_ like to prove a point like this? "A bet."

"Yeah. If I beat Ishida's score in the finals you keep your fucking mouth shut. If not…well, you heard before."

I just had to stare. Beat Ishida? Grimmjow beating Ishida Uryuu, the smartest guy in the year – and probably the whole school? It was laughable. Impossible. Grimmjow wasn't taking this seriously at all – it was like he _intended _to lose!

"Fine," I said. "You're on. You end up as number one on the score table, I say nothing. But if you're not, if Ishida beats you by a tenth of a point, then you are gonna have a helluva fun three years of school."

I held out my hand. Grimmjow wrung it in a painful grip before letting go and stalking away. I rubbed my hand, wishing I'd thought of forcing him to put the bet in writing to make sure it couldn't be forgotten, because the bastard had no chance of winning.

**

* * *

_Try not to become a man of success, but rather, try to become a man of value._**** ~ Albert Einstein**

* * *

He turned up at school every day for weeks after that, and the teachers were amazed and incredibly suspicious. I knew what kind of game Grimmjow was playing but I also knew that attending school now, so late in the year, wouldn't help him too much – not even attending as religiously as he was.

It was a strange sight: Grimmjow bent over his work at his desk, concentrating and working, not giving out any attitude and ignoring pretty much everyone. He doled out no threats, he avoided being rude or disruptive, he did his homework on time and scored surprisingly high marks in the pop quizzes that our teachers sprang on us in preparation for the real exams. It was really goddamn weird and I started to wonder if Grimmjow could possibly pull it off. He seemed to be putting his all into achieving his goal.

And, you know, I could sort of respect that.

I didn't like him, but I…

It was a very slight, very grudging respect, all right? I didn't like feeling it. Not at all.

I regretted making the bet. I regretted even being around that night and seeing Grimmjow. I knew that even if I won I wouldn't tell anyone – I was a big boy now, I wouldn't indulge in petty revenge like this. Elementary school had been years ago anyway, and I'd grown up a lot since then, even if Grimmjow hadn't.

Soon the sight of icy blue hair present in every class became normality and I gradually phased consciousness of Grimmjow's presence out of my mind. I needed to do well in the finals too, and I was so pissed at Renji for forcing me to join so many afterschool clubs, because it meant that as well as my studying I had soccer, basketball and karate to practice. If it hadn't been for the worrying thought of my karate becoming rusty and me generally getting more unfit, I probably wouldn't have joined them all. But, miraculously, I managed to pack it all in, juggling my spare time between an unexpectedly full social life, my sporting career, and school.

Somehow time managed to slap me in the face and the weeks before the dreaded finals drained away even before I could blink. I staggered out of school after the whole ordeal feeling depressed and completely sapped of my energy. I'd fucked some shit up, especially in History. And Math. Ugh.

I started thinking about what the others would get: Inoue and Chad would do well, they were really smart; Ishida would be first, damn him; Renji, being the idiot that he was, had put off the studying until the last moment and would probably have an average score. I wasn't sure what Rukia would get. She tended to do well in school, but couldn't handle exams very well – she'd definitely be higher than Renji, but not in the top hundred.

I wondered for a second how well Grimmjow would do, but almost immediately forgot the thought as Keigo made a beeline straight for me. Fuck, that boy irritated me sometimes. He was so _loud._ I was surrounded by so many _loud_ _people._

"Ichigo!" he wailed, draping himself over me even as I fought him off. "Oh, Ichigo, I'm doomed! I'll fail them all, I know it!"

I rolled my eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised. All you did was play video games with Renji instead of study. Serves you right if you fail."

"You're so cold!" Keigo whined, latching onto Mizuiro. "Mizuiro, console and comfort me in my time of need like the loving friend you are."

The shorter boy blinked at him. "Did Asano-san say something? Or was it merely my imagination?"

"Oh, both of you, as cold as ice!"

"Aren't they?" Renji agreed, sauntering up to us. He grinned at me. "How'd you think you did?"

I shrugged. "Pretty well, I think. 'Cept in History. I'm sure I missed out some dates at the end or got them wrong or something, I just wrote down any old shit. Fuck, I hate History. All those goddamn names…"

He nodded sagely. "I'm sure you did better than me, though. I missed out half the paper and drew a squid. It was pretty good too. Wanna see it?"

"No."

He huffed and said, "You're never any fun unless you're drunk. It's like you've got a tree up your ass. Lighten up or you'll get like Rukia's brother."

"There's no way in hell I'd ever be like Byakuya. I intend to look like I've actually gotten _laid _once in my life, you know."

"You? Getting laid? I'll believe_ that_ once you tape it and show it to me. And don't forget, little Ichigo, that Kuchiki Byakuya has at least half the female population of Japan lusting after his stuck-up ass."

"Uh-huh, whatever. You coming to practice?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. I can never wait to beat you at soccer, you know that, honey-bun." He winked at me flirtatiously and slapped me on the ass.

Oh holy fucking shit-

I gagged on a shout of pure outrage and horror and pushed him away. "The fuck are you doing, retard?"

"Ladies dig the pseudo-homoeroticism," Renji said. "So I thought we'd give it a try."

"No way in hell!"

"I'm gonna do it to you even if you don't want me to. _Especially_ if you don't want me to. Everyone loves an unwilling partner."

"That's called _rape." _

"It's called _forced consensuality,_ darling."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Why had this happened to me, why? "I need new friends. Specifically, I need to replace you."

"What? You'd never be able to do that, I'm matchless. Don't make me laugh." Renji loosely looped an arm around my neck and propelled me forward. "All right! On to me trashing your little butt. It'll be fun, trust me."

He chattered on as we walked to the boys' locker room. I took it all in and filtered it out with the expertise of one who had been exposed to it for years, and looked outside at the sky – bright blue. The color of Grimmjow's hair.

I couldn't help but frown. We only had to wait a week or so at the most for the scores. I told myself that I'd have to be patient until then.


	7. secrets shared and spilled

**in****·****trigu****e **_verb_

1. to arouse the curiosity or interest of by unusual, new, or otherwise fascinating or compelling qualities; appeal strongly to; captivate

2. to achieve or earn by appealing to another's curiosity, fancy, or interest:

3. to draw or capture

* * *

I was almost surprised at how easy it was.

To actually work again.

To study.

It was just like a pattern, y'know, you just need to get yourself into it and you'll be fine. Just make a routine. Throw yourself in it.

Take a few breaks to cool off, though.

A few hits to stop the shivering and nausea and the feeling that your limbs are hurting so bad that they're gonna fall off.

But other than that if you know what you're doing, if you work hard, you're done.

That's all there is to it.

Well, I'm smart too. That helped. I can be goddamn intelligent when I want to be, but I always figured that school smarts were pretty much really fucking useless in the real world, you know? Socializing, people skills, charm – they help better.

Not that I have much of 'em.

But still, your IQ doesn't matter a damn in the cutthroat world out there. They won't give a shit whether you got eighty or ninety percent in a Chemistry test if you're tough and you do what you're told (that second one's the thing I have trouble with, see, that's why I get into a little hot water sometimes) so really, when you lead the kind of life I do, test scores mean fuck all.

You just need to survive on a day-to-day basis using your fists.

To prove my point to Kurosaki, I just put that off for a little while.

I took a little breather from Aizen. He didn't question it, thank fuck. I was back in his good books again.

Plus he was busy with some illegal business merger or something to that effect, but I didn't care.

I knew that I would get what I wanted.

I just had to wait.

**

* * *

_Commit the oldest sins, the newest kind of ways._ ~ William Shakespeare**

* * *

Fuck, of all the days for the bus to be late, it had to be this one!

I ran up the stairs as fast as I could and reached the freshman floor, sprinting to where the score table would be set up – predictably, a huge crowd was milling around in front of it, pointing and gossiping. I became aware of a buzz of excitement, louder than usual, and I saw Ishida hanging at the edges of the mob, looking shell-shocked. That in itself made me feel a little worried, but I ignored it and walked to him.

"Ishida? How'd you do? First again, huh?"

Ishida looked up and stared at me for a second, then pointed wordlessly to the top of the board.

_Number Three: Kunieda Ryo_

_Number Two: Ishida Uryuu_

_Number One: Jaegerjaques Grimmjow_

I stared. Rubbed my eyes. Looked again and checked if I was dreaming or hallucinating by pinching myself hard on the arm. It hurt, but nothing changed. The figures stayed the same.

My first coherent thought was that it was really weird to see Grimmjow's name presented the Japanese way, with the family name before the given name. I'd never seen it like that before. I knew for a fact that Grimmjow insisted on having his name written like they did in the West, and that he'd be pissed at this.

My second thought was that I wasn't dreaming. It was not a dream. It was real – Grimmjow had beaten Ishida. He had gotten the top score. He'd won the bet. _He'd beaten Ishida._

Inoue walked up to us and smiled, asking me what I thought of my achievement (I vaguely noticed that me and Chad were tied at number nine) but I looked at her blankly and she must've seen that I was in a weird mood pretty quickly, and frowned.

"Kurosaki-kun? Is something wrong?"

I took her by the shoulders and turned her around until she was facing the board. "Inoue, do you see anything strange there?"

"On the wall?"

"On the wall."

"Er…not really."

"Look up," I prompted. "At the top of the board. What do you see?"

Her brown eyes squinted. "Oh. Oh, yes. Jaegerjaques-kun got first."

"And…you're not surprised?"

"Oh no, not really." She said it so _cheerfully._ "I knew he was intelligent. I heard some other people saying that he used to be the smartest person in his other school. Oh – and I'm sorry, Ishida-kun," she quickly added. "About…this."

"It's not your fault," Ishida replied in a faint voice, although it was obvious that he was struggling to make it sound like he didn't care.

Rukia stomped up to us then, grabbing my arm and pointing to the wall. "What the hell is this?" she demanded. "Am I going insane or is this some kind of gigantic shared hallucination?"

"I don't know," I said. I looked at Ishida. "I'm sure it's a miscount or something. A mistake. Maybe he cheated. He probably cheated. I'm sure he cheated."

Rukia's eyes narrowed. "But he's been acting weird for weeks and weeks now, going to school and all."

"And he used to be the top student at his other schools, like I said," Inoue repeated. "I don't think it's so impossible that he could have done it."

"That's because you don't know what he's been doing outside school," I said darkly. "He's been…he's probably been messing about with gangs. Smoking and drinking. Doing drugs. Shit like that. There's no way he could have beaten Ishida without some kind of…help."

"You know this for a fact?" Ishida asked.

"No, but I am a man of my word and will honor the oath I made," I said it without thinking.

They all looked at me strangely, but I steamrolled right over my weirdness by slapping a still-confounded Ishida on the back hard enough to send the glasses sliding down his nose.

"Don't worry, man," I said. "The teachers'll clear it up. There's probably a mistake somewhere in there. You'll still get first."

He seemed to compose himself, sniffing and pushing my hand away, "Like I care. It's just a stupid test. I've got my mind set on less trivial things."

I rolled my eyes, "OK, whatever. Jeez, I try and be nice…"

"It's unnatural. And it makes you look more constipated than you usually do, so I would suggest staying clear of the sentiment from now on."

He sniffed again and pushed his glasses up his nose with a forefinger, then walked towards his next class, Inoue following behind and waving apologetically to me and Rukia in farewell.

I rubbed my head. "Well, this is unexpected."

"I know. Do you think he really managed to do it?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I mean…he seemed to want to do well."

"Yeah, he's been putting a lot of work in lately, hasn't he." Rukia sounded thoughtful. "I wonder why he suddenly went all studious."

I laughed. Hopefully she didn't notice that it was slightly nervous. "Yeah, how about that."

"Maybe he's turned over a new leaf for good or something."

"Yeah, and maybe baboons are gonna spring out my ass and dance the can-can."

"Why are you so sure? He might want to do well at school now."

I narrowed my eyes as the subject of our conversation strolled into my line of sight. "Trust me, it's not that."

She followed my gaze and saw Grimmjow gaze up at the scoreboard dispassionately. He cocked his head thoughtfully, then looked at me for a fleeting second and wandered away. His clothes were as scruffy as usual, and I saw a large, angry-looking cut on his arm seeping blood through the fabric of his shirt. It wasn't an unusual sight: a lot of the time when I saw Grimmjow he had some sort of injury and I'd just stopped thinking about it too deeply. It wasn't my business anymore. Grimmjow had won. I would keep quiet. Well, I would've done anyway, but now it was official. Grimmjow had won.

Unless…

I encountered him later that afternoon and grabbed my chance. I used the element of surprise to my advantage, lunging at Grimmjow and dragging him into the nearest deserted hallway, slamming him against a wall; he didn't even blink, and I got the impression that he'd had it worse.

"Well?" I said. "How'd you do it?"

"Intelligence. You might have heard of it, but I doubt that since it doesn't seem like you have any."

"Shut up. You cheated and got away with it. How?"

"I didn't cheat," Grimmjow said, looking bored. "And there was no mistake in the scoring. They checked again and again. I did it fair and square, and it's all legit. So you can go fuck off and cry in a corner now."

"Bullshit. I don't believe you."

"Think whatever you fucking want," he said coldly, pushing me away. "I don't give a shit and it doesn't change a thing. I won. You keep your trap shut, or I'll skin you alive. End of the matter."

He shouldered his way past me roughly, deliberating knocking me to the side, and stalked off with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. I stood still, breathing harshly, hands raised like Grimmjow's shirt was still bunched in my fists. I let them drop, feeling distinctly stupid. Aggravated. Ashamed.

The self-hatred seeped out again under the wound I thought had scabbed over years ago. I wondered what my mom would have made of this.

I made a frustrated sound and kicked the wall. Fuck this. What Grimmjow did was none of my business – hadn't I been telling myself that over and over again for months now? I didn't want to get involved in such a clusterfuck of complications anyway. And with Grimmjow that's all anything ever was.

It was settled then. I wouldn't stick my nose into Grimmjow's life anymore. I'd just ignore the bastard from here on out. It wasn't like he was an important part of my life in any case: he was just an ugly reminder of the past.

I wandered over to a window, leaning on the sill and staring out into the washed-out blue of the early spring sky. I could maybe accept that Grimmjow hadn't cheated. I knew he was smart. He'd been a top student when I'd known him last. But he didn't seem to care about that now, and I wondered why Grimmjow was letting all that intelligence go to waste. It was kind of a shame, now that I thought about it.

But at the same time I was glad he didn't come to school. I knew he wouldn't miss a chance to show off and that he'd be rubbing it in everyone's face if he had the chance. Arrogant and insensitive, that's all he was-

Fuck. I had to stop thinking about him. This was getting unhealthy.

**

* * *

_Everybody's journey is individual. If you fall in love with a boy, you fall in love with a boy. The fact that many Americans consider it a disease says more about them than it does about homosexuality._**** ~ James Baldwin**

* * *

I was totally gonna forget about him and keep my nose out of his life, I swear to god I was. Really. But Fate is such a bitch, you know? So nothing turned out the way I wanted.

As soon as I walked through the school gates the next day I was attacked by at least half a dozen people, including Renji, Rukia and, strangely enough, that crazy pink-haired lesbian I could never remember the name of. They leapt on me– well, the lesbian did – and dragged me into a corner, babbling and screeching and generally being themselves. Them being this loud and annoying was normal, so I was used to it, but since it was early in the morning I wasn't really in the best of moods and didn't have any patience for stuff like that.

"What the hell has gotten into all of you?" I snapped.

Rukia stared at me. "You haven't heard?"

"Obviously not, if I have to ask what's wrong!"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques has come out of the closet! It's official! He's gay!" the lesbian – _Chizuru_, that was her name – shrieked, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

It suddenly felt like the world stopped spinning on its axis. I looked at her, not understanding at all, then turned white. "Wh-what?"

How the fuck did they know? Had they seen Grimmjow too? Or had they overheard him and me talking about it? How-

"It's _everywhere!"_ Chizuru screeched. "Yesterday a girl in the year above asked him out on a date and he said he didn't like girls!"

I shook my head, trying to put the world back to rights. So he had told people himself. But that didn't make sense. That made no _sense. _"Yeah, but…that could just mean he, you know, doesn't like girls _at this moment in time-"_

"No!" she insisted. "He told her he preferred guys, and now she's told everyone else and the whole school knows!"

"Right." I just stared into the middle distance unseeingly, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Right. Maybe it was a joke?"

"People don't usually joke about things like that when it concerns themselves," Rukia said.

"But we_ are_ talking about Jaegerjaques here," Renji interrupted. "Maybe he _was_ just saying it for shits and giggles."

That just started them arguing again. Really, really loudly. I was afraid that there would be violence, and I discreetly turned away and almost walked, in a zombie-like trance, into the school before stopping - I realized that I couldn't go in there; all I'd hear was gossip about Grimmjow. And I wouldn't be able to stomach that.

Not that I felt sorry for the bastard: it was just about what he deserved. But I couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that was blossoming again in my chest, like a wound. I felt like it was my fault Grimmjow had told people. It probably was.

But then my hard-boiled pragmatism kicked in and I told himself to stop thinking like that. To stop flattering myself. Grimmjow's personal life was just that: personal. I wanted nothing to do with it. And if Grimmjow chose to just fucking let everyone know everything – without thinking about it, without considering the consequences - then, well, that was up to him.

However much I told himself to stop thinking about it, though, I still felt insanely curious whenever my mind drifted idly back to the subject, which was often. I mean, really. Couldn't he have just lied? Told that girl he had someone already? Just said 'no' to her? He wasn't sensitive, he wouldn't have cared about her reaction. Why had he told everyone? _Why?_

He hadn't seemed that happy about the whole sexuality thing when I'd seen him _that _night. To be honest, I hadn't been quite sure whether he was gay or not – later I thought that maybe Grimmjow'd just not cared that a guy kissed him since he was so stoned, maybe he would do anything for money, maybe he'd just been hanging around the back alley of a well-known gay club for, I dunno, fun or something. I didn't know what that guy did for entertainment.

But to have it _validated-_

It shocked me to think that Grimmjow would be gay. He didn't _seem_ like it. He wasn't flamboyant or camp, he wasn't girly or bitchy or into fashion or any of that crap I thought a gay guy'd be. And yeah, so I entertained all those negative stereotypes, but I knew hardly any gay people then.

Grimmjow was a straight-up dick, probably one of the most _un-_gayest people I knew. Him being into guys...it just blew my mind.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I looked out for him at school, on the street, everywhere, just so I could confront him or something and demand some answers. But Grimmjow didn't turn up at school that week, or the next, or the one after that, and soon the excited whispers died down. Some senior had gotten knocked up by her boyfriend. A guy in the year above was expelled for dealing drugs to the other students. Life just carried on without him.

Of course, when he came back a month or two later, there were whispers and sly glances and snide remarks. But one look from those blue eyes, a few threatening words, and they disappeared. Grimmjow was not an ordinary person, and ordinary people did not feel the desire to mess with him. So they didn't.

It seemed the world had reverted back to normality. And when he did randomly attend school from time to time, I wondered why the guy even bothered anymore.

We sat next to each other in English – our teacher insisted on arranging the class in pairs according to the Roman alphabet, and it was just my goddamned luck that 'Jaegerjaques' happened to be right next to 'Kurosaki'. That day Grimmjow had strolled into class, as arrogant and unconcerned as ever, and I could foresee that certain difficulties lay ahead.

"Kurosaki-kun," my teacher said. "I want you to partner Jaegerjaques-kun for this. No squabbling now. You all know what to do, get down to it!"

The work was easy and I finished it in ten minutes. Grimmjow had too, and was doodling on his paper; I saw a motorbike, a knife and a penguin wearing a top hat and twirling a cane. They were pretty good, actually.

Grimmjow saw me looking. "What?" he said, irritable.

"Nothing. Why, is it illegal to have functioning eyesight now?"

"You were staring at my work. You're not sad enough to _copy,_ are you? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Why would I try and copy your work? I'm better than you at English anyway. I just happened to look at your desk for a moment while I was thinking."

"Wow, you were _thinking?_ Must be a first."

"Oh, ha ha. That was almost _witty._ Too bad, but you didn't quite get it."

It was such a stupid move. I knew that nothing encouraged Grimmjow more than a chance to get into a fight, verbal or otherwise, and I should've expected the barrage of insults that came flying my way. As it was, I could deflect most of them - years of Ishida had taught me how to take abuse and turn it back on its head – but some were so bizarre and downright out of line that it was hard to not just lose it and go flying at the guy with my fists at the ready.

I snapped after he said something really fucking insulting concerning my father and a corpse. "Dammit, Grimmjow, _what _is your problem!"

"You are. You piss me off."

"I got that. Grow up."

"Don't you fucking dare tell me what to do-"

"Get over yourself," I said scathingly. "You're not nine years old anymore, you worthless loser-"

I stopped myself there, taking a deep breath and glaring at him. "Screw it. I was gonna try and be nice to you today, or at least tolerant, but you always push me-"

Grimmjow just sneered. "Aw, how cute. You were gonna be _nice _to me? Why would you do that, Kurosaki? Think we're friends now, 'cuz you just happened to see me that night and we share a special secret?"

I couldn't describe how much he disgusted me. "You know, I was thinking about apologizing to you for what I said, but you really deserved it. Every word."

"Good to know you feel that way, because you can take your apology and shove it up your ass, where it belongs."

"I never apologized, dickhead, I said I was _thinking_ about it. And no, we're not friends, to answer your earlier question – we never will be, and I never want to be. I'll just forget you from now on if you just tell me one thing."

"What?"

I swallowed. It was a hard question to ask. But I gathered my courage. "Why'd you tell everyone about you being…about you liking guys?"

"None of your fucking business," Grimmjow said acidly. "It's my life, I'll do what I want."

"No need to get so touchy."

"Fuck you! It's a subject most people are touchy about!"

Well, I couldn't argue with that. I gave up and we spent the rest of the lesson working in an atmosphere charged with simmering anger. Grimmjow disappeared afterwards, and I honestly felt relieved beyond measure. Just being around the guy was enough to give me a headache, and the itch to bash someone's head in with a hammer.

I was in such a rotten mood for the rest of the day, and the only people I was civil to were Chad and Inoue, and that was because they were the only people who didn't actively try and piss me off in some way or another. My bad mood kept up until well after school, but a few hours of kicking a soccer ball around in the torrential rain helped me feel a lot better, especially after Renji slipped on some mud and fell flat on his ass. I'd thought I was going to die laughing. Grimmjow didn't cross my mind once, after that.


	8. fear

**com·pas·sion** _noun_

feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

* * *

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

The rain kept falling into my eyes.

My hair was wet and matted. My legs felt like lead.

What was the point of anything, anymore.

The first time. The first time, in almost five years, she called. My mother.

Ever since she found out. About the gay thing. Toyama-sensei.

Called me disgusting. A freak. Abnormal.

I think she disowned me, but I don't remember. I don't care.

And now, she decides to call. But not to patch it up.

Not to make it all better, kiss the boo-boo goodbye and put on a band-aid.

To talk to dad about something. I picked up the phone, said_ "What.". _Heard her voice for the first time in years, and she sounded cold and aloof and like she always has. I knew it was her the moment I heard that voice.

I slammed the phone down. It rang again. No one was at home, except me. But I didn't pick up.

I didn't know why, now. Why, today. Why, of all days. Why why why.

Fuck her.

I didn't care.

She didn't, so why should I?

She never cared. Never about me. Only about the things I did. And now, now that I was the type of person she detested, I wasn't part of her life.

Everything was there, with me. I always carried it. Just in case. The syringe, a spoon, a lighter. The dope.

Good stuff. I didn't accept cheap shit.

Maybe it was purer than what I was used to.

Maybe it was an honest mistake.

Or maybe, I just didn't give a shit anymore.

* * *

I didn't see Grimmjow for another month, but I remember the next time we met vividly. It was near the end of the school year, March or April. Humid, wet, uncomfortable.

One of the scariest fucking days of my _life._

It had been raining once more, like a biblical flood pouring down from the sky, but it let up for my walk home from soccer practice. I always missed the bus on those days: Renji or Ikkaku invariably distracted me with ridiculous stories of their drunken escapades or yet more pranks they'd played at school. Sometimes I wondered why I was friends with them, because they pissed me off and exasperated me more often than not – but they made me laugh more than anyone else I'd met too, so I guess that was reason enough to hang around them like I did.

I was taking my time getting home. There were some puddles of epic proportions left by the rain, and I was childishly tempted to jump into a few and splash around. But it was really cold and my mouth watered at the thought of Yuzu's cooking, of the comfy couch, my warm bed at the end of a long day-

And then I passed by an alleyway and caught a flash of blue hair.

I stopped, closed my eyes, and felt a crushing sense of déjà vu. Why did Grimmjow spend all his time in alleys? Did the prick have no home to go to?

It was very, very tempting to just keep walking. I had no desire to stick my nose into Grimmjow's private life again. But unfortunately, my mom'd brought me up right – I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to Grimmjow.

I'd seen him there, slumped over and unmoving. Alarm bells were ringing in my head and every sense I had was telling me to go back, and I did, very unwillingly indeed.

He was lying against a wall, unconscious. His chest was barely rising and I dropped to the ground and felt for his pulse – I sucked in a breath when I felt it, it was horribly faint and erratic, but it was still there. My eyes flicked to the side, and I froze – there was a dirty syringe on the ground near his hand, which was twitching spastically.

The alarm bells become _deafening._

Grimmjow groaned a little and twitched his head. His legs were shaking. It was almost like he was having a fit.

I didn't know what to do. I had a good idea of what might've happened, but I had no idea _what to do_. I went completely blank. I think I sat there for at least ten seconds, terrified and completely still. And then I phoned the first person I thought could help me – my dad.

He picked up on the first ring. He must not've been very busy._ "Helloooo, Kurosaki clinic! This is Kurosaki Isshin speaking, how may I help youuu?"_

"Dad – dad, it's me, I n-need your help."

I must have sounded really spooked because he became deadly serious. _"What's wrong, Ichigo?"_

"Just...I found...this guy, I know him from school, and I just found him, he's not moving-" I was stammering, clenching my cell phone hard. Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck, Grimmjow wasn't moving at _all_ now, he was so still, it wasn't hard to imagine that he was dead-

"_What?"_ dad said sharply. _"Have you called an ambulance?"_

"No, I didn't, I mean, I don't know what's wrong or what to do-"

"_What's the situation?"_

"He…drugs…I think he overdosed. I...he's..." My breath hitched. "T-there's a syringe. Heroin, I think."

Dad inhaled deeply, becoming even more serious. And that was freaky, too. I'm not used to him like that. But I felt like such a child then, I was so scared. I didn't know what to do.

"_Ichigo, check his breathing. Is he breathing? What is it like?"_

"Uh, um, it's really, like, shallow. It sounds like he's struggling-"

"_Is he conscious?"_

"No, I just said he's not moving!" I snapped. "Dad, fuck, what do I do?"

"_I'll tell you that when you shut up and listen!"_ he replied harshly. _"Calm down, Ichigo. His life might depend on this. All right, how old is he? Do you know his weight? How much he took, how strong it was? What's his name, do you know how to contact his family?"_

I could hear him scribbling it all down on paper; I could only splutter: "N-no, I don't know. He's my age. Um, his name is Grimmjow. That's his given name. His family name's Jaegerjaques."

"_It's what?"_

I spelled it out for him, stumbling over the words in my fear. "And, uh, he's got blue hair. He's rich. I think his parents live near Rukia or something, that upper-class bit of town."

"_Is that all you know?"_

"Yeah, yeah, that's it..."

It surprised me, actually, to realize how little I knew about him at all. Nothing apart from his name and the fact that he was an ass. That was all I had.

"_Ichigo, listen to me very carefully. You need to check his eyes, and lips. The pupils will be very small, like pinpricks. Are they like that, Ichigo?"_

I checked. His eyes - oh god, it was terrifying. My heart was banging so hard in my chest I thought I would have a heart attack. My hands were sweating and shaking. His eyes were as blue as ever, but the pupils were so, so tiny.

Oh god. His eyes were so _blue._ The color had always been intense, but I had never noticed it as much before.

"Yeah," I gasped into the phone. "Yeah, the pupils're small. Really small. Tiny."

Dad could sense my fear. _"Ichigo, you need to calm down. I know you don't like ambulances, but you need to do this. All right?"_

"Y-yeah, I know-"

He became a little more soothing. _"OK, his lips – are they blue?"_

"Just a little. His fingernails, too."

"_Ichigo, you need to call an ambulance _right now."

I nodded feverishly, then remembered I was on the phone. "Yeah, yeah, I will."

"_I'm going to hang up in a few seconds and try find his family, OK?"_

"Yeah."

"_Don't worry, it'll be fine. He'll survive. You'll be OK, too, I'll make sure of it."_

"O-OK."

"_I'll see you at the hospital. I'll get there as soon as I can. Ichigo, don't worry. Everything will be fine."_

"OK," I managed to say, around a huge lump in my throat. He hung up. I held my cell phone in my hands and looked at it. My hands were shaking so bad I almost couldn't dial the number.

But I got it in the end. A pleasant female voice asked what was wrong; I told her. I gave directions. I was given instructions – don't shake him about, don't move him, don't do this or that.

I hardly listened. His skin was so cold. So clammy. Just like mom's.

"Grimmjow," I breathed, just barely touching his cheek. "Grimmjow, are you...are you there?"

He muttered something under his breath. His eyes cracked open. He was alive.

"Grimmjow, can you hear me?"

Those blue eyes were vague and disorientated. He didn't answer. His head rolled to the side, away from me, and his gaze kept flickering wildly to things I couldn't see. He talked to people that weren't there. It took maybe five or ten minutes, at the most, for the ambulance to arrive, but it felt like hours. Days.

I could hear the screech of sirens from streets away. As soon as it hit my ears I could feel the full-blooded panic take hold of my chest. My heart was beating so hard I thought I'd die, I was trembling, cold sweat broke out all over me. I felt dizzy, and like I was gonna pass out or something, and when that horrifying vehicle skidded round a corner and stopped a dozen or so yards away, paramedics jumping out and surrounding us along with a crowd of curious bystanders, I could only stare at them wide-eyed and silent, shaking like a leaf.

They could tell I was scared. They spoke to me gently yet firmly, like a good doctor should. I told them everything I knew. Then I saw Grimmjow's limp body being lifted up onto the gurney, and I almost crumbled there and then. He was so _pale._

I needed to go with him.

I couldn't _leave _him-

The inside of that ambulance was the setting of so many nightmares for me. There was so much fear. Too many bad memories. But I steeled myself and stepped inside, heart palpitating wildly.

I held his hand on the way there. Oh, déjà vu. Like I was nine years old all over again.

His hand was so thin. _All _of him was thin. Too thin, and as white as paper. He felt like he would break if I pressed too hard.

"Grimmjow?" I whispered. I squeezed his hand, just a little. His eyes slit open, so blue it took my breath away. For a moment they were blank. And then, I saw it, just for less than a second.

The fear.

He was scared, his face scrunched up and limbs shaking. Grimmjow was scared. And everything I'd felt: the hate, the resentment, the disgust - it all flew away at that exact moment.

"Grimmjow," I said, in the lowest voice I could manage. "I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

He just stared.

"I was drunk. I was stupid, I'm still stupid. I'm sorry. I..." I gulped, voice trembling a bit. I tried to smile at him. "Don't worry, I'm here. You'll be fine."

Those blue eyes held mine, one, two, three seconds, and then they clouded up and he closed them. Under the oxygen mask they'd put on him his mouth turned down at the corners into a sad, pathetic little frown. I felt him squeeze my hand, just the slightest pressure. I reached up and brushed away a strand of limp hair, placed my hand against his forehead and rubbed it, trying to be soothing. I thought I heard him whimper under his breath.

The pity I felt then almost washed me away. What the hell had happened, to make him like this? What had gone wrong? He'd been smart, he'd been popular, he'd been _perfect._

And now...he was anything but. I didn't understand it. He was too different from what I was used to. It was just too weird. Too much.

All I could do on that journey was sit there with him, hold his hand. For some reason, I don't know why, I didn't want to let go of him. It was like I was the only thing holding him to this world; I felt that if I let go of his hand, he would slip away and die.

And I couldn't let someone die like that. Not while I was there. Not like mom again.

When we reached the hospital, the paramedics rushed away with him and I was left stranded in the waiting room, lost. Dad was there. He didn't say a word – as soon as he saw me he strode over and hugged me so hard I thought I really would faint. And for the first time in a long time, I hugged back.

**_

* * *

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear_. ****~ C. S. Lewis**

* * *

Grimmjow's chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, his arms stretched alongside his body. His eyes were closed, a slight frown marred his otherwise expressionless face. I felt too nervous to approach him – he was surrounded on all sides by beeping, buzzing, flashing machines. I knew what they were. I knew what would happen if I broke them. Imagining what would happen just made me feel worse.

A long clear tube ran from an IV into Grimmjow's arm. There was a doctor by his side, talking to another man: he was short, with messy sandy brown hair and round glasses. His face looked like it was used to being perpetually sad, but right now all I could see on it was frantic worry. He kept pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead, which was dripping with sweat.

It was Grimmjow's father. At first, I hadn't been able to believe it. They were so _different_ from each other, it was nearly impossible to equate the two when you saw them side by side. Grimmjow was tall, his dad wasn't; Grimmjow had classically good looks, with his sharp, clean-cut features and exotic coloring, while his dad was kinda mousy at best; Grimmjow was loud and obnoxious and in-your-face, and his dad looked like he was the shy type. Complete diametric opposites.

I waited outside that room for a few more minutes, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. It was the day after I had found Grimmjow, and I was back at the hospital. I hadn't brought any gifts. I wished I had. The table beside the bed was depressingly bare.

Time stretched on and I watched the room from the small square of the window next to the door for what seemed like hours. I had just about convinced myself to leave when Grimmjow's dad glanced up and saw me – his expression changed into a strange mixture of relief, delight and gratefulness. He rushed to the door and poked his head out.

"Ichigo-san! Have you come to visit?"

I twitched a little, guilty at the thought of leaving. "Eh, um, yeah. Is...is that OK?"

"Of course it is! Please come in." He held the door wide open. "I am so happy that you have arrived. It is nice to see you. You, ah, have brought something?"

Owlish eyes blinked at my hands. I quickly hid them behind my back.

"I'm sorry," I said lamely. "Not...not yet. I just came from school."

"I see, I see." He smiled, then spoke again in with a strange lilting accent. "Thank you for visiting. You are always welcome. I will not bother to say my thank you again, you know how happy I am you found my son. I cannot express it with words."

The beaming smile and heartfelt thankfulness made me uncomfortable. "Yeah, anytime...I mean, well...you know."

"It is good to know there is someone who cares. You are his friend?"

"Uh...well...yes...?"

Grimmjow's father sent me a strange look. "You sound not so sure."

"We...we know each other. Somewhat."

"Oh. I see, I see." He waved his hands and smiled again, round glasses glinting in the artificial light. "You wish to know how he is?"

"Yes. Um. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes. Everything is stable. He is recovering." A frown tugged at his eyebrows again, and he muttered something under his breath. Then he said, "Such a stupid boy. But he will be fine. It may take a few weeks, perhaps a few days. But the doctor has said he will be OK. Nothing too bad is happened."

"Nothing?" I asked. "But how long has Grimmjow been...doing...it? Aren't there, like, side-effects?"

His resulting frown was so thunderous I backtracked immediately. "Uh, actually, never mind. It's not my business-"

"It is all right," he said, in a heavy voice. "Really, honestly, I don't know. Not so bad at first. It has become worse in the last few months. Ever since we moved back here. I thought..." He started mumbling absentmindedly again, under his breath. It was a foreign language that sounded something like French.

He shook his head when he saw my blank expression and smiled ruefully. "I am sorry, I do that sometimes. I...I am really very thankful to you, Ichigo-san. You...if it had not been for you, my son would most likely be dead." His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat. "But please, I will not forget this. If at anytime there is anything I can do for you or your family, please just let me know. Yes?"

I nodded, now desperate to leave. The situation was unbearably uncomfortable. Every time my gaze slipped to the still figure on the bed, I felt...I felt _concern._ And pity. Seeing Grimmjow so silent, so...lifeless...it scared me more than I wanted to admit. I didn't like those feelings. The urge to go to Grimmjow's side and check if his eyes were back to normal was so overpowering, it almost made me shake.

I left leave as quickly and as politely as I could and walked home, breathing in the cold air deeply and gratefully. It cleared my head. It washed away the sterile smell of disinfectant. As I crossed his arms, wishing that I'd worn a warmer jacket, something colorful at the corner of my eye caught my attention.

It was a cake shop, a really expensive, well-known one that all the rich kids took their dates to. Dozens of cakes sat on the window display, all different sizes and decorated in such detail it was unreal. They looked delicious. I could feel my mouth watering. The smell from the open door was far too alluring, and I walked in without thinking about it.

They were almost about to close. I stared at the display again, wondering if I had any money left over to buy something. Grimmjow's empty bedside table flashed in my mind. Almost without realizing it, I pulled out my cell phone and called dad.

"Dad, it's me."

"_Ichigo, fruit of my loins, apple of my eye, why aren't you home yet? Dinner is soon to be on the table-"_

"Dad, shut up. Do you have Grimmjow's number?"

He calmed down a little. _"That boy from yesterday?"_

"Yeah, but do you have his dad's number or something? Like, his cell? I don't think anyone would be at home."

There was the rustling of paper, and then a triumphant voice saying, _"Yes, I do! Do you want it?"_

"Yeah, thanks."

I noted it down and hung up, then called the number before I could regret it. The person who picked up was unmistakable.

I didn't actually know what his name was, which was embarrassing, so I just stuttered, "Eh, hello...is this, um, Grimmjow's dad?"

"_Ah, Ichigo-san, yes it is. Is anything wrong?"_

"No..." I hesitated. "Um, well. I was just thinking. Is there anything Grimmjow...likes? I was just passing this cake store and I thought-"

"_I see, I see."_ I could feel the smile he was wearing_. "A cake? He loves sweet things, my son. A good choice. And yes, he likes pineapple. Anything with pineapple will be fine."_

Pineapple. I thanked him and pocketed the phone, then turned to the display again. There was one cake in the very middle, a plain tart with yellow icing. It wasn't too expensive. Not too showy, either. Pineapple flavour. Perfect.

I tried to remember if visiting hours at the hospital were over yet, then I thought about whether Grimmjow had actually woken up since having arrived at the hospital and if he could eat anything solid. Then I sighed and bought one of the tarts, making sure that it stayed perfectly intact on the way back to the hospital.

If I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.

**

* * *

_The end result of kindness is that it draws people to you. _****~ Anita Roddick**

* * *

For just about a week, every morning when I woke up, there was a pineapple tart on my table.

I had no idea where the fuck it came from.

Probably dad. I didn't ask. He didn't say anything.

But it wasn't like I was complaining. I fucking _loved _those things. They were probably like my most favorite food ever.

I almost regretted leaving the hospital.

I was in that bed for a week, almost. Having stuff pumped into me. Having stuff drained out. Most of it was so fucking embarrassing I can't even say it without wanting to crush someone's skull.

Let's just say that I have never felt so degraded in my life.

I have never felt so goddamn disgusting. So...sober. Lucid. They gave me shit like methadone but it didn't compare. I felt sore, I was cranky, I was bedridden and weak.

I felt like a wet noodle. If it hadn't been for those cakes I probably would've broken out and killed someone or something.

But I guess it was my own fault.

I shouldn't have lost control like that.

I was just-

Somehow, I just kept on needing _more._

Every time, it built up. A little bigger.

Why? I don't know.

But that's what a drug addict does, right? Their tolerance gets higher. They keep on needing bigger doses.

So fucking desperate for more.

I even did it in some shitty alleyway.

I mean, goddamn. That is just the lowest of the low.

I ain't some fucking hobo – I have a fucking house, I could've done it there.

But then I suppose I'd be dead now if had.

Fucking Kurosaki.

What did he think he was doing?

I hope he didn't think that I was grateful or some shit like that. I wasn't.

He could go burn in hell for all I cared.

I wasn't thinking.

Just animal instinct.

I needed more. I needed it then, I need it now.

I needed to wash it all away.

My life.

Everything. Everything was wrong, it was a pile of shit.

I hated everything. My family. My job. The house I lived in, the town, trees, color, music, everything. What good did it do me?

Who cared if I died?

I thought, _No one would care anyway. No one would try save me._

I guess I was wrong. But-

Fuck, I can feel it.

The pain.

Like I'm drowning.

I had nothing else in the world, and now they've taken everything from me.

But I'm not going to go back. My dad would say that was the only good thing that came out of it.

I said I was gonna give it up.

Why would I want to do that to myself again?

There was no control.

And _Kurosaki_ of all people had saved me - I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of that again.

Dad looked like he wanted to hit me and cry at the same time when I told him.

Idiot.

The first time I saw him, after it happened – I'd never seen him so furious. I'd just woken up. He was sitting beside the bed, his head in his hands.

I'd just kinda shifted around a bit. I had no idea where the hell I was, and I was blinking and groaning because, you know, I'd almost fucking died and I was pissed off and confused.

Dad's head jerked up. When he saw that I was awake his eyes went wide, and he gaped at me for a moment.

Apparently undecided between crying, and screaming at me for being such a moron.

He settled on something between the two.

It was kinda hilarious, in way, 'cause he's so goddamn tiny. Like, I'm almost six foot now but he's just 5'6" or something. And when he gets mad he puffs up and waves his arms about, jumping around like a cricket.

He swears in French, too, which just makes things doubly funny. Everything sounds pussified in French, whereas in German it's like you're about to mug someone even when you sing a love song. The only reason I still speak it is to swear.

And while I'm on the subject-

I saw my mother for the first time in five years.

_That _was a surprise.

I'd thought she'd be too busy with some important business-type stuff, but no, she came to visit her only child on the other side of the world after he'd almost killed himself.

How thoughtful.

I won't describe her visit.

It still makes me feel weird to think about it.

I'd never seen her so-

Anyway.

It was no fun, being stuck in that place.

Kurosaki didn't visit me once.

Not that I gave a shit.

Still, though. You save someone's life, you can at least go apologize, right?

Asshole.


	9. action, reaction

**bond** _noun_

1. something that binds, fastens, confines, or holds together.

2. a cord, rope, band, or ligament.

3. something that binds a person or persons to a certain circumstance or line of behavior.

4. something, as an agreement or friendship, that unites individuals or peoples into a group; covenant.

5. binding security; firm assurance.

* * *

_Chrysalis: First Act (High School)_

_Overture: Junior Year_

* * *

So it was in our second year of high school that all the shit hit off.

The weather was kinda nice. April. Maybe May. Can't remember exactly.

Not really summer yet, but close.

For once, I was at school. My dad had banned me from not going. It'd been two weeks since The Incident.

What I felt, I can't even describe.

No drugs.

No alcohol.

No going out without dad's permission.

I'd wanted to strangle him.

But in the end I listened. I was still too weak to do anything against him, too weak to fight.

So I was sitting on the bleachers outside the school, after everyone else had gone home, just hanging around and watching the sporty people go around their daily business of being uptight retards.

Kurosaki was there.

He was with his bitches, plus some other people I didn't know. They weren't from around here. I didn't know how they'd gotten into the school grounds in the first place, although it didn't really matter. I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Not like _that,_ though.

Fuck's sake.

I have some taste, OK?

At first they were just wandering around, then he, Abarai and Madarame started racing each other on the track. They were supposed to go at the end of the countdown but Kurosaki shot off at 'two' instead and the others swore at him and followed. They ran around at breakneck speed, again and again, shouting and laughing, and I couldn't help but feel bitter.

I used to be that person.

I used to be able to outrun every boy and girl in my year.

Outscore them.

Outsmart them.

And now what?

I was the loner. The freak. The outcast.

Shit.

It wouldn't do.

The last straw was when Kurosaki and his friends finally slowed down and fell to the ground just below where I was sitting. Their chests were heaving, and I could see the sweat on them even from dozens of yards away. I have good eyesight. And they were incredibly sweaty.

Someone snuck up behind Kurosaki. Another friend from out of school, some woman with long blonde hair and tits so huge they could drown a man. She upended a bucket of water over his head, to 'wash him clean' I heard her say, and it must have been fucking freezing because he yelped like a little girl and jumped away.

The woman said something to Kurosaki, and it must have been suggestive 'cause his friends broke out into loud laughter and he turned red and rolled his eyes.

Then he took his shirt off.

I mean, what.

It was hardly the peak of summer, for fuck's sake.

What was he doing?

Oh right, he was changing into a new shirt-

It was a shock, to say the least. To look at him.

I had a sudden vision of Kurosaki in elementary. He'd been pale and puny, a real string-bean of a boy. Thin legs and arms. Ribs sticking out in his chest. Nothing special. Nothing attractive.

Apparently, not so much anymore.

All I could see was an expanse of smooth, tanned skin. Long muscled limbs, lithe, toned, perfect.

What the fuck.

Now I really couldn't tear my eyes away.

There were scars, scattered across his chest and back and shoulders. They should have been repulsive. But they weren't.

Water was running down his chest. Kurosaki shook his head and little sparkling droplets went flying from his shaggy orange hair, which was then stuck to his forehead in a way that looked like he should have been on a TV commercial for underwear or something. Dolce and Gabbana. Armani.

I can't fucking help my body's reaction, all right?

It's not my fault I got hard at the sight of him.

It's just hormones. A chemical reaction.

I mean, I still hated his guts. I woulda knifed him in some alleyway no problem if he'd annoyed me enough. My mind hated him. My brain did. No doubt about that.

But my chest was prickling with heat. I couldn't look away. There was that weird twist in my stomach, like when you see someone for the first time and they meet your eyes and you just _know_ you-

Fuck.

Not good.

Not good at all.

I needed to get out of there.

_**

* * *

Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.**_** ~ Marquis de Sade**

* * *

It was unnerving, having Grimmjow stare at me so intently. I was trying to have a good time with my friends but I couldn't stop my eyes from sliding back to his figure, slouched on the benches. He was wearing such baggy clothes, pretty much all I could see was a lump of cloth, but I knew he was glaring at me. It was a feeling. Instinct.

I could always tell when his eyes were on me. It made shivers run up and down my back and the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up. It wasn't a nice feeling, so when he left sometime after Rangiku threw the water over my head, it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I didn't like having him near me. His presence was oppressive. It reminded me of far too many bad things.

But I couldn't help myself. I started to wonder, was he OK? Had he recovered? Was it all right for him to be back at school so soon?

He had been so thin, there on that bed. So pale. So lifeless. It had scared me, it really had. I mean, I didn't like him, but I didn't want him _dead._ I'm not _that_ much of an asshole.

That day, I had been terrified that something really bad would happen to him. I almost couldn't sleep. I kept seeing him on those sheets. I'd been so horrified when I realized he was paler than they were, I was almost sick. I was shaking for hours afterwards.

My friends always told me I worried too much. I guess that they're right. I worried a lot, and not only people I cared about, it seemed. Grimmjow was back in my life whether I liked it or not – and I had saved his life, whether _he_ liked it or not.

Maybe it was fate. Destiny. Something had tied us together and wasn't letting us go. We were like comets or something, colliding over and over again. Oh fuck, I don't know.

I was uncomfortable with it. I was _worried _about him, I couldn't stop worrying about him, and I didn't like it, because I got the feeling that things would only get worse from there on out –

And shit, was I right. Was I ever right.

* * *

Back home, I went straight to my room. I brushed past my dad. I locked my door.

He'd ransacked my room, scouring for every trace of every drug he could find. But everything had already gone. I'd already thrown it away.

Fuck, I wouldn't do that again.

I wasn't stupid.

For the love of god, I almost _died._

You don't repeat shit like that.

My room was plain again. Spartan. Bare. Cold, and white. There was a full-length mirror on one of the walls, and I stripped down to my underwear and stood in front of it.

My eyes raked over the image. My lip curled in derision.

Shit.

You could count every rib and I wasn't even sucking in my breath. My collarbones stuck out like I'd swallowed a clothes-hanger. My skin was so white the wallpaper looked yellow, my hair was dirty and greasy and unkempt. Black shadows under my eyes, skin drawn so tightly over my face it looked like a skull.

_Disgusting._

How the fuck had I become this?

A goddamn skeleton?

Pale and skinny and ugly?

I thought of Kurosaki again. Tall, muscled, a killer body. Like some work of art. I could feel myself getting hard just imagining it.

Ugh.

Fuck _that._

I wasn't gonna let him get the best of me.

So what if he'd saved my life?

It wasn't like it was worth much in the first place.

It wasn't like he'd saved something _special._

It was just _me,_ after all.

But I wouldn't let him get one up over me. No. Fuck no.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

I'd show him.

I could be just as good.

Better.

Just wait and see, Kurosaki.

**_

* * *

Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam_.**** ~ I have a catapult. Give me all the money, or I will fling an enormous rock at your head.**

* * *

Our relationship was complicated now, or it was for me at least. I didn't really hate Grimmjow anymore. I couldn't bring myself to. But I was sure that Grimmjow didn't feel the same at all. Either way, I wasn't given a chance to talk about it with him, mostly because we tried to avoid each other as much as we could, and also because I had less and less free time anyway. My soccer coach was becoming increasingly insane, and he forced our team to train like madmen for hours after school at least three times a week in preparation for an oncoming match against another school. On top of homework, hanging out with my friends and studying – I mean, I hardly found time to _breathe _anymore.

The next time I saw Grimmjow, I'd had just been minding his own business, getting a drink from my bag in the locker room and taking my time going back outside, and of course who should I meet but the one person I was only too happy to avoid?

We bumped into each other outside a classroom he was leaving. There was an awkward silence (awkward on my part anyway, he just glowered at me ) and then I said,

"What the hell are you doing?"

He just wouldn't stop _staring._ "I go to school here."

"Seems more like you vacation here after you get bored of doing whatever it is you do out of school," I said, rolling my eyes. "Not to mention the fact that school ended at least two hours ago. But whatever. If you go to some kooky afterschool club with only one member, that's fine by me." I raised my bottle of water in salutation and made to leave. "Later."

He was on me in an instant; he lunged and pinned me against the wall, his handsome face screwed up into a mask of rage. I was unimpressed. What the hell was wrong with him now?

"I'm just here to reiterate, Kurosaki," Grimmjow said in a low voice. "Don't go spreading shit about me. So you found me? Saved me? Forget it. We _aren't friends."_

I just had to sigh. "This is getting old. Singing the same old song, huh? Well, let me tell you something: I don't care about your insecurities, I don't give a flying fuck about being friends with you, and the mutual hatred still stands so would you please let me fucking _go?"_

I was lying of course, about the hatred thing, but what else can you say to such an angry face?

Grimmjow leered. "You're such a mouthy little shit, you know that? It's a wonder you have any friends."

"At least I have them," was my retort. I knew I was crossing some line somewhere, but couldn't care less by that point.

Goddamn it, every time we interacted Grimmjow just made me so _mad._ He did it without even trying. I'd told myself that I was over it all, but he was such an ass it was impossible to remember that. _Impossible._

**

* * *

_Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence._**** ~ William Blake**

* * *

Kurosaki looked good angry.

I kinda liked it.

My eyes met his, locked onto his defiant glare. He never gave up, did he?

Well.

I smirked and said in a silky voice: "Well, since you asked so nicely, I guess I'll let you go."

I let go of his shirt; he straightened, still glaring at me, before walking away without a second glance.

It was at that specific moment that my mind thought it prudent to point out that Kurosaki had a pretty nice set of legs on him, and that his ass in those shorts wasn't half bad either.

But I brushed those thoughts aside as objective admiration – you know, like when you're looking at a painting or something.

It's not like I actually found him attractive. Not the whole package.

Just _parts _of him.

It was the tan. And the muscles. And the scars that should have looked hideous but were in fact kind of sexy. Or they would have been, on anyone else apart from Kurosaki.

I didn't like looking at him that way, though, and banished those thoughts to a tiny barren corner of my mind.

To distract myself I thought about my birthday, and what I'd get this year. My dad would hopefully just go back to the way he'd been and stop hanging around at home so much, it was irritating. I really preferred it when he made up for his absence with cool presents.

Well, not really. But he was so…_clingy _now. Like I'd just up and disappear any day.

He was there when I woke up. He was there when I came back to school, and went to bed, and even when I went home for lunch sometimes. He was always hanging around. I wasn't used to it at all.

Huh. I guess your son nearly dying on you can lead to newfound appreciation for said son.

I just hoped he wouldn't get me another fucking cell phone, I had about five of those already…

* * *

I didn't get a cell phone. No; instead, I got the joyous news that my cousin Nelliel would be coming to live with us. In fact, she'd be arriving in a week or two and I was to be nice to her, she was going through a difficult time, her parents' divorce was hard on her, I would understand since I had experienced it myself blah blah blah whatever.

Somehow the news got to school - and not only that a mysterious foreign student from Germany was coming to attend, but also that she was my relative. And since I was of course considered by most people to be some good-for-nothing degenerate, that made for the best kind of gossip.

It was Kurosaki that came up and asked me if it was true, because he was retarded like that, ignoring the extremely unhappy scowl on my face.

"Yeah, she's my cousin and she's coming to live here," I said to him. "It's a long story I can't be bothered going into. Anyway, her parents are splitting up so she's gonna live with me and dad for a bit. And she's coming to this school, as you may have heard."

"When will she arrive?"

"Next week. Get lost Kurosaki, you're cramping my style."

Kurosaki scoffed and said, "What style?" but he fucked off all the same.

For the whole of the week I was on edge, not wanting Nelliel to insinuate herself into my life: I hated pretty much all of my family on my mother's side and even though Nelliel was the one I got along best with because she wasn't a whiny bitch, her cool, superior manner pissed me off all the same. Like Ulquiorra's attitude did, except Ulquiorra was a sick emotionless fuck that lived to lick Aizen's feet, and probably his balls too-

And speaking of Aizen.

I was clean. Or trying to be. I had to go to some clinic, get checked up every week or so, I got pamphlets and a counsellor and all this other shit I couldn't be assed with. They gave me methadone to try wean me off the smack, some sort of cheap substitute.

It really fucking sucked. It didn't do the job nearly as well.

But I wouldn't go back.

I refused.

Aizen said he approved heartily.

Not that I cared. But it was easier to get the job done when you weren't high, I found. Should've been common sense. Guess I don't have much of that.

The number of jobs he had for me started dropping.

I don't know if it was intentional. I don't know if he had grown tired of me, or didn't trust me, or whatever.

I found that I didn't mind.

How weird is that?

It was hard, in a way, to have less work. I had defined myself based on what I did for him. And now…

Fuck, I dunno.

I can't psychoanalyze myself. I'll leave that to someone else.

I still worked for him, though. Even if I was far away, he still 'valued' me. There was some sensitive shit that only I could do, apparently. He delegated the grunt work to the newbies, the violent stuff to the crazy assholes who enjoyed that type of thing – but I'd known him for a few years now, I knew his modus operandi. In and out. Quick, clean, no violence, no killing, nothing that could stain his spotless name.

Nothing too dangerous. Nothing too illegal.

Just some intimidation.

Financial transactions barely on the right side of the law.

That sorta shit.

My dad didn't know about Aizen. I _hoped_ my dad didn't know about Aizen. I wanted it to stay that way, because I suppose my old man had enough to deal with, what with economic difficulties and problems with the business and Nelliel's sudden resurgence into our lives.

It only made me resent her more.

I saw her a few times during her first week there. She didn't go to school, she just settled in, got used to speaking Japanese instead of German, and when she was finally ready to go to school I was forced to go with her, like I was her fucking babysitter.

I hated it. She tried to stick to me like glue, even though she was in the year above. I attempted to lose her as much as I could and watched with vindictive delight as she struggled through school on her own, but Kurosaki, the fucking douchebag, he took pity on her and afterwards there was one more addition to his little posse.

It was sickening.

She changed, from being aloof and condescending, to endlessly chattering about Kurosaki at home, wandering off to his house randomly to spend time the night there, sharing lunch with him and his friends on the roof every lunchtime; sometimes she split off to sit with the girls but the majority of the time she stuck to Kurosaki, always acting particularly warm towards him, hugging and even kissing him in public.

It embarrassed him, I could see, and I took pleasure in that at least, but unfortunately with time the asshole got used to her being overly-affectionate and soon there were rumors that they were dating.

Kurosaki always said they were just friends. Nelliel said that was fine with her, but being 'just friends' didn't stop her from holding hands with him and kissing him on the cheek whenever they met up, I noticed.

Nelliel demanded to know why I didn't like Kurosaki more, too. She'd learned that the two of us had known each other for a long time and she didn't get that it was an enmity, even when I explained our history.

"_So what?"_ She spoke in German, just to piss me off. _"That doesn't mean a thing. I'm pretty sure he's forgotten all about that. You should be friends."_

"_Go fuck yourself,"_ I replied in German too, just to show that I could give as well as I got.

Her cool, disapproving attitude came back. _"On second thought, I can see why he stays away from you."_

"_Hah! Him staying away from me? More like_ I_ stay away from _him._ We don't get along, __and that's that. Leave it."_

She still didn't understand how anybody _couldn't _like Kurosaki, the dumb woman. At school she tried to force us to eat together – or she did when Iwent to school, anyway – since her reasoning went something along the lines of "Well, Ichigo and I became such good friends because he invited me to share his lunch with him after you abandoned me _again."_

At this she would stare at me accusingly and I would snort, and then she would continue: "So why shouldn't it be the same for you two?"

It didn't work, of course. I didn't know why she was so obsessed with us being friends anyway, but I avoided school at every chance I got afterwards and the plan fell apart within days.

Nelliel decided that she preferred to share Kurosaki with fewer people, in any case. She continued to be friends with him and his little gang, hanging out with them outside of school, sometimes bringing them round to the house that was rightfully mine. I hated Kurosaki and his friends so I had to always steer clear of my own _home _when I knew they'd be there – and sometimes I didn't, Nelliel liked to 'surprise' me, and I had to find a way to escape somehow.

She wouldn't let up on why I didn't like him, though. According to her, he was the nicest person to have ever graced the earth. He was witty and he was smart and he was funny and noble and _just so cute._

She just did not shut the fuck up.

More than once I'd tried duct-taping her mouth closed. But that pissed her off. And Nelliel can be extremely dangerous when she's angry. So I had to make do with just ignoring her.

"What about him annoys you so much?" she asked me, _yet again,_ one day. "I don't get it."

I clenched my jaw, trying not to punch her. "I've told you about a million fucking times, Nelliel. Piss off."

"Is it the hair?"

"No." I actually kinda liked his hair. I liked the color. And sometimes I wondered if it would be soft, or if it would be full of gel or whatever to keep it looking so spiky.

Not that I would ever, _ever _tell anybody.

Nelliel pouted at me. "I know he can be a bit rough sometimes, but you're like that too, you know. You're more similar than you think."

"The hell we are."

"If I had to make a list I'd be here forever."

"Keep deluding yourself. No, wait, _go away_ then keep deluding yourself."

"I think he's very handsome," she pronounced suddenly, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I muttered. She knew I was into guys. But she should have known that didn't mean _every single fucking guy on the planet._

Like I said, I have _taste._

"Do you think Ichigo's good-looking?"

Oh god, she would never stop. I would be a rotting skeleton and she'd still be blabbering about him to me.

I gave up and rolled my eyes. "Yeah sure, if you like pretty-boys with too big an ego and too small a dick-"

She pounced, "So you think he's pretty?"

"I-"

"And you've _seen_ his-"

"No!" I snapped, ears turning red. "I don't – I haven't ever – just _no,_ Nelliel!"

"But then how do you know it's small?" she asked innocently, eyes gleaming.

God did I hate her. "I don't! I know anything about it, OK? I've never seen it, and I don't want to!"

"But you said you thought he was _pretty."_

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"Fuck off."

She started singing, "Oooh, Grimmjow has a cruuuush-"

I threw a plate at her head.

It missed, but it's the thought that counts right?


	10. discovery or two

**h****ome **_noun_

1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.

2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

3. the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.

4. the place or region where something is native or most common.

5. any place of residence or refuge

* * *

Lemme ask you a question.

So this guy's walking down the street, minding his own business. He's been roughed up by at least half a dozen guys. His arm hurts like a bitch. He's kind of limping along, trying to get to his destination as fast as he can.

And guess who he runs into?

No, really, guess.

If you said 'His number one enemy, Kurosaki Ichigo' –

Well, it wasn't that hard a question anyway.

Fate's a bitch, and she has sisters. And in a past life, it seemed I slept with them all and didn't call afterwards because _boy _do they hate me.

I was really getting tired of running into him everywhere.

OK, so it was right outside his own house, but whatever. I was just trying to get some medical attention, can you fucking blame me? I didn't like hospitals, not after that whole almost-dying-from-a-heroin-overdose thing, so this was the next best thing I could do.

I'd hoped he wouldn't be at home. No such luck. He was just coming out the front door when he saw me, and he gaped. The first words out of his mouth were: "Whoa, what the hell happened to you?"

I must've looked pretty damn bad. Black eyes, cuts, bruises, my arm swelling up like a goddamn bouncy house or something – but I smiled anyway, because I'd given those guys who'd tried to pick a fight with me a taste of their own medicine.

I'd improved, in the last couple months or so. I ate three meals a day. I drank two and a half liters of water. I limited my alcohol intake to a couple of beers on weekends.

Not really that last one, if I have to tell the truth.

But a guy's gotta treat himself sometimes, right?

I'd turned one of our many spare rooms into a training room, too – punching bag, weights, treadmill, everything. Dad had tried to keep up with me (parental support or something) and it had been fucking hilarious – I mean, he was some short fat guy jumping up and down in sweatpants, panting and turning red, shouting at me whenever I made fun of him.

After I almost killed myself laughing when he fell off the treadmill he gave up in disgust and went back to muttering under his breath about ungrateful bratty sons and the joys of finally being able to stuff his face with greasy French food.

Not so much for me.

I worked myself to the fucking bone, trying to forget that fucking drug.

Blood, sweat, tears.

OK, no tears.

It was hard work. I thought I would collapse, more than a few times. I'd ached all over. Sometimes I couldn't get up in the morning. I'd dropped weights on my toes at least a dozen times.

But it was all worth it.

For the first time in years, I had _muscle._

And it looked pretty good too.

Not as good as Kurosaki-

Not as muscular, I mean.

Anyway.

So Kurosaki dragged me inside and I was hustled into this room; soon some crazy bearded weirdo screaming and leaping about like a madman appeared – and then, to my absolute horror, Kurosaki introduced that man to me as his dad, and the fucking doctor in charge of the place.

At least he had the presence of mind to be completely fucking mortified about the fact that he was related to a nutcase, though.

When the insane man left the room I shifted uncomfortably where I was sitting and kicked Kurosaki. "Hey, I don't want that weirdo anywhere near me."

"He's a good doctor, even if he is batshit insane. So suck it."

I made a frustrated noise. My arm fucking _hurt._ "Can't you do it? You're his son, right?"

"Just because my dad's a doctor doesn't mean I popped out my mom waving a medical degree in my fist! God, just calm down. He won't try to rape you or anything."

Aw man, he just _had_ to say it. "I hadn't even thought of that, but now you've just made me!"

"Hey, calm down." He grinned at me. He was more amused that he should've been. But somehow, I didn't mind. Having that smile directed at me made me feel all tingly and shit.

Fucking hormones.

"Grimmjow."

"What." I made sure to make my voice sound as curt and uninviting as possible, but that bastard had a thick skin and just ignored it.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I sat back and sneered at him, looking down my nose. "You sure you want to know?"

"I do now."

"Just some arrogant bastards who thought it was funny I'm into guys," I said, scowling.

He looked thoughtful, for some reason, and looked me over. His gaze was mild, and it freaked me out. I wasn't used to him being friendly.

I kind of _liked_ this antagonistic vibe we had here.

It made things...interesting.

"How many were there?" he asked

"Six."

"Huh." He was impressed, I could tell. It only bloated my ego. "So you beat some of them up even though they fucked your arm up?"

"Yeah."

"Then you lost the rest when they chased you down, right?"

"Yeah." How the fuck did he know that?

He recognized the look on my face and sighed. "No, I'm not psychic. It's just happened to me too, that's all. More times than I can count."

"Really."

Then he got kind of nervous. He started fiddling and avoided my eyes. "Yeah. Um. Grimmjow?"

"What now?"

"Why'd you tell everyone? About...the gay thing?"

Oh for fuck's sake. "You aren't gonna let that go till I tell you, are you?"

"Pretty much." He gave me a quick look, and then reverted back to the douchebag Kurosaki I knew and really didn't love. "I mean, what the hell? Isn't that the sort of issue that needs, I don't know, tact and diplomacy when you tell people about it?"

"Fuck off!" I was _pissed _now (also I was in extreme fucking pain from possibly having a broken arm). "I don't give a flying shit if anyone's got a problem about it. I am who I am and they can shove it up their asses if they don't like that."

Yeah, I used to be ashamed of who I was. Then I figured, fuck it. I was better than most people anyway. What did their opinions matter to me? As long as I had myself, my strength, my pride - I was fine. I would survive. I didn't need anything else, anyone else.

Well. That's what I thought at the time, anyway.

_**

* * *

Attraction is beyond our will or ideas sometimes. **_**~ Juliette Binoche**

* * *

Grimmjow was an ass. I knew that. But I couldn't help the (very, very slight and extremely unwilling) respect I had for him rise a few notches, at those words. It was unfair, the way he was changing the way I saw him. First getting the best scores in the year for the exams, then almost dying of a drug overdose, now he was being true to himself and proud of who he was? It read like the plot of some terrible cheesy movie.

"I was tired of it hanging over my head," he spoke up suddenly.

I didn't understand. "Huh?"

Grimmjow twisted his face into an expression of contempt; his eyes were thin electric blue slits and I could physically _feel_ the hatred. I straightened defensively – it was instinctive.

"The fuck are you looking at me like that for?" I demanded.

"Abarai sure has turned you into a pottymouthed little brat," Grimmjow said, lip curling. "I don't think you're getting the picture, Kurosaki. We're not friends, and we never will be. I didn't tell you _anything _about me out of choice, and when you saw me that night-" He broke off suddenly, eyes gleaming with something I didn't want to name. "Let's just say I didn't like the thought of you telling everyone and their fucking mom about me. So I just decided to do it. I wanted to get it the fuck over with."

"I wouldn't have told anyone."

Grimmjow looked at me, as if in awe of my stupidity. When he saw that I was being honest, he started to laugh. "Fucking hell, you really _aren't _getting this. I don't like you. I didn't trust you then, I sure as hell don't now, so how the fuck did I know whether you were gonna blackmail me into anything? Consider it insurance, dickhead."

I felt my shoulders hunch in anger, scowl darkening. What the hell was taking dad so long?

Grimmjow didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. I was appalled at the thought of blackmailing anyone, even _him. _Although, I did have to admit to myself that he'd done the right thing. Sometimes I'd felt so livid with rage at the asshole that I was sure that, if I'd known his secret then…well, maybe I wouldn't have kept it to myself.

It was like a strike to the chest, that thought. Unexpected and unwelcome – a sudden, horrible realization, to become conscious of the fact that I wasn't as honorable a man as I originally thought I'd been.

"I wouldn't have told anyone," I repeated. It sounded lame, even to myself; it wasn't a statement, more of a reassurance, trying to convince myself I was telling the truth. Even Grimmjow could see the lie, and snorted derisively.

"Typical Kurosaki, eh?" he said, his sneer deepening. "Always has to have the last word. Always have to prove that you're _so much more fucking noble_ than anyone else. How much better you are. Don't you dare lie to me-"

I couldn't decide if I was more relieved or angry that dad chose that exact moment to come in. He glanced at me; I got the message and left. I didn't bother waiting outside, I knew dad would be able to take care of whatever was wrong with Grimmjow. It was probably nothing. Within a week or so he'd be fine.

After that I didn't let myself think about it anymore. I had too much homework to do.

* * *

Kurosaki senior had calmed down a hell of a lot since I'd seen him last, so I wasn't as reluctant to let him come near me. He was a crazy guy, but it was in a likeable way, I guess. He was the complete opposite of his son – good-humored and friendly, instead of rude and snappy. They were nothing alike.

But I shouldn't have been surprised, since my dad and I weren't exactly similar either.

He treated my cuts and looked at my arm for a few minutes, turning it around in his hands delicately, but even those feather-light touches were agony. I couldn't even _move_ the fucking thing, it hurt too much.

Then he frowned and said, "This looks pretty bad. It's not a sprain – you might have broken it at least. I'll have to do an X-ray to be sure. Are you able to stay overnight? You don't have school tomorrow, do you?"

I shrugged. "I don't go to school."

He just looked at me for a moment before nodding. He wrapped my arm in a towel and took out an ice pack from somewhere, telling me to hold it against the swelling. While he was busy muttering under his breath and filling out some forms, I looked around.

We were in a smallish room, white and clean, but not sterile like the hospital. More…homely. Comfortable. There was the sound of a clock ticking, muted voices coming from a TV in another room, the hiss of a frying pan from the kitchen – noises of a normal, everyday household.

"…so I can drop you off or something tomorrow, if I'm not busy. Is that OK with you?"

I just caught the tail end of what he said, and raised an eyebrow. "You know where I live?"

He was silent, then said, "You're the boy Ichigo found. He called me first, and I found out your address and your phone number, so yes. I do."

I hated being reminded of The Incident (I felt an unpleasant pang when the word 'heroin' was even mentioned) so I scowled. "Yeah, whatever. That's fine."

He nodded again and scribbled something down. He prodded me and poked me, moved my arm this way and that, took X-rays and tons of notes I wasn't sure he'd ever even need. I can't remember how long it took, maybe one hour, maybe three. It was just my luck that he wasn't so busy.

By the end of the ordeal I was tired, sleepy and kind of high on the painkillers. It was late. The air was warm. My whole body felt heavy, and my eyelids were drifting shut. I laid my head back on the examination table back in the first room and closed my eyes, dimly aware of arms around me and sheets being drawn over my chest, I was so warm and comfortable-

-and before I knew it I was jerking awake I don't know how many hours later, the growling of my stomach waking me up.

I was really fucking hungry. Plus, the painkillers'd worn out. My arm was killing me: it was all wrapped up in a cast and shit, but now the skin was dry and itchy and I could feel the bone throb.

I tried to ignore it and looked out a window. It was almost dark outside.

Wait, where the hell was I?

A bedroom. How the fuck had I gotten in a bedroom? Hadn't I been in some examination room last time I checked?

Fuck. My head was sore, too. What a wonderful fucking situation.

Slowly, I slipped out of the bed and went to the door. It was just a little open, letting in a thin sliver of light – I poked my head out into a very ordinary-looking hallway, which had ordinary-looking stairs leading down into an equally ordinary-looking lower floor.

There were plants. Paintings on the walls. Tables with framed photos.

Nothing…interesting.

So this was Kurosaki's house.

There was some delicious smell hanging in the air. I could hear people arguing loudly. All of it was coming from downstairs.

My stomach growled and gurgled again, and I went down, ignoring the pain in my arm and weirded out by how strangely _ordinary_ Kurosaki's home was. I'd expected some sort of chaos. Craziness. Excitement. But there was none of that. It was just a normal Japanese household at ten in the evening.

And for some reason I felt...let down.

But not for long, you know. I went to where the noise was loudest and walked through a door straight into the kind of scene I'd been looking for – there was the crazy doctor, arms wide open and shrieking at some young dark-haired girl, who punched him in the face. He staggered back into Kurosaki, who was looking as grumpy as ever, and who retaliated with a kick to the back of his head.

This was exactly the kind of family I wanted to stay away from.

I cleared my throat and watched as four pairs of startled eyes met mine. There was another girl there, a light-haired one who looked to be around the same age as the girl with dark hair.

Who the fuck were all these kids? Was Kurosaki operating some kind of pedophilic trade ring?

"Jaegerjaques-kun?" the doctor asked, looking surprised. "What are you doing down here?"

I frowned. "I woke up 'cuz I was hungry. Can I, uh, get something to eat?"

"Well, sure...you know, you could have just pressed the alarm button next to your bed to call me, you shouldn't have walked down here...your arm..."

They fussed over me like overbearing relatives – well, the doctor and the blonde girl did. She turned out to be a sister.

I remembered that. I remembered seeing her and the other girl when I'd been at elementary with Kurosaki – he'd run outside into his mother's arms after school let out, and two little girls would be with her. They were twins. The look on his face when he saw them, it was like nothing I did to him ever mattered.

It'd only made me try harder.

The blonde girl, Yuzu, sat me down at the table, and the doctor ("Call me papa! Ow, Ichigo, what was that fo– fine, Isshin is good too!") checked my arm again, both of them chattering like canaries. I was too tired to do anything but sit back and doze, letting it all wash over me. Then the blonde girl gave me a plate and piled it high with rice and vegetables and curry, and that was when I started paying attention to what was happening around me.

"Uh, wait a minute." I poked the curry with a chopstick. "Has this got meat in it?"

"Yes, it does. Why? Is that OK?" Blondie asked.

"No, actually. I don't eat meat. I'm a vegetarian."

"Oh." She sounded taken aback. "Sorry, I should have asked. Here, I'll get you another plate-"

She took my plate away to get me something else, and I looked up and saw that Kurosaki was staring at me.

"What?" I snapped.

He shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide. "You're a _vegetarian?"_

"Yeah. So fu...so what?"

I even remembered not to swear, and all it did was make Kurosaki look even more incredulous. The stupid asshole stared at me some more, raised an eyebrow and turned back to the Math textbook he'd been doodling on.

I didn't know what his problem was. Plenty of people in the world were vegetarians. I just didn't like the taste of meat - it's nothing to do with the cute fluffy fucking animals or the goddamn environment or whatever. Whenever I eat meat I feel like I'm gonna be physically sick. It's weird.

The doctor – Isshin – sat down opposite me, looking sheepish and scratching his head. "I hadn't expected you to get up so soon, you know," he admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't check up on you."

Kurosaki snorted. "Some doctor you are."

That initiated a round of bickering that I could see was nothing more than friendly banter. I just started to eat, unnerved by the whole aura of the place: the relaxed atmosphere, the closeness I could feel between everybody here, the warmth and friendliness. I felt like I was an intruder. My head ached, and I massaged my temples.

"Here." It was Blonde Girl, holding out a glass of water and some painkillers. "You look like you need these."

I took them and nodded at her for thanks, then swallowed the pills down in one gulp. I got up, blinked when everything blurred in and out of focus, and stumbled to the side. Kurosaki and his dad managed to catch me in time; I tried to shake them off but I was too unsteady and I had to put up with them as they supported me and walked upstairs back to the room I'd woken up in.

Kurosaki managed to insert a stupid joke about my weight, but added that this time it was easier to carry me up the stairs now I was at least semi-conscious. At least that answered the question of how I'd managed to end up in that bed in the first place anyway.

"I don't need anyone to tuck me in," I spat, as I sat down heavily on the mattress.

Kurosaki rolled his eyes. "Way to be ungrateful."

The doctor only sighed and said, "I'll go find a pair of pajamas. Ichigo, can he borrow some of your-"

"No."

"Ichigo." His voice was stern.

Kurosaki scowled. "Fine."

Then it was just me and Kurosaki alone in that room, but I didn't mind as much as I otherwise would've because my head was woozy and I was feeling sleepy again. I lay back against the pillow. Kurosaki was quiet, for once. He was texting someone on his cell phone and I saw the briefest suggestion of a smile flicker across his face as he read something on the screen.

Probably something from Abarai.

Dickwad.

There was a niggling feeling at the back of my mind...the phone reminded me of something...

I shot up. "Kurosaki, gimme a phone, I need to call my dad." Shit, how could I have forgotten that? Dad would've probably called the police by now, the stupid idiot-

Kurosaki offered me his cell phone, and I took it and punched in dad's number, holding up to my ear.

_"Hello?"_ It was dad.

I slipped into French. _"Hey, it's me."_

"_Grimmjow!"_ he exclaimed. _"Where have you been? Have you any idea how worried I-"_

"_It's OK, I'm fine. I just, uh, I got in a fight."_

"_Oh, Grimmjow-"_

"_Let me finish! I got in a fight – it wasn't my fu...my freaking fault, OK, they started it. Someone...a classmate found me and took me to the nearest doctor. I'm here right now."_

"_You're where right now?"_

"_The Kurosaki Clinic. The doctor guy told me to stay overnight and he said he'd drop me off in the morning."_

"_But-"_

"_For god's sake, I'm fine! Just a few bruises and a broken arm, nothing to have a heart attack over. Jeez, calm down. I just have to rest a few weeks and I'll be OK."_

"_A broken _what-?"

"_I'll see you tomorrow, dad."_

"_Grimmjow-"_

"_I'll see you tomorrow.__" _I said firmly, and hung up. I passed the phone back to Kurosaki, who took it dumbly, staring at me in profound shock.

"What the _fuck _was that?" he asked, after a few moments.

"Hrmm? What was what?"

"You know...that! Talking to your dad..."

"Oh, that? 'S called _French,_ Kurosaki."

He looked aghast. "You speak French?"

I radiated smugness. "And German. Fluently."

I looked carefully into his eyes and easily read the surprise – there was a little bit of envy too, which made me feel even more smug, but there was also...respect?

"How the hell can you speak three languages?" Kurosaki asked.

"I learned them. Duh."

"You know what I mean."

"Huh. Fine." I yawned and let my head fall back against the pillows. "I thought it wouldn't have been such a surprise, since you _know_ my dad's half-French."

"So he taught you."

"No fucking shit. And my mom is an uptight Nazi bitch who forced me to learn German because that's where she's from."

"Germany?"

"No, asshole, China." I said sarcastically. He looked confused and I rolled my eyes. "Of course Germany!"

"I remember now." Kurosaki said slowly. "So your dad's half-French and your mom is German. Is that why you have such a weird name?"

"Pretty much. The 'Jaques' part comes from my dad, the 'Jaeger' from my mom. They combined their family names and blessed me with 'Jaegerjaques'."

"And 'Grimmjow'?"

"Was their idea of a joke."

Kurosaki grunted. "Not as bad as 'Ichigo' though."

"True."

"The whole 'strawberry' thing has gotten _really _old."

I smirked. "Hah. Wanna learn something new?"

"What?"

"'Jaeger' means 'hunter' in German. Now is that appropriate or is that appropriate?"

Kurosaki looked defeated, because yes, it was really fucking cool. "Fuck you."

"I'd rather you didn't." I yawned again, wider this time, my jaw cracking. I fell back against the sheets with a contented sigh. "Where the hell is your dad?"

"Dunno."

"Your family is goddamn weird."

"I know."

"Not like mine, though. Mine's just shit."

Kurosaki made a noncommittal noise, and looked away, an awkward expression on his face. He was uncomfortable. I didn't even know why I was telling him all of this, why I suddenly felt the need to babble about my fucking life story to someone I didn't even care about. Just because I liked the way he _looked-_

I blame the painkillers.

They were really fucking strong, all right?

"My French is better than my German, you know," I commented. "I hardly speak German anymore."

"Not even to your mom?"

_That_ ruined my mood. "She left my dad when I was eleven. I've seen her, like, once since then."

"Just once?"

"At the hospital. After the…the whole overdose thing."

"Oh. Yeah. You don't, uh…get along with her?"

"Not a question of _getting along_ with her," I growled. "She's delusional. Thought one little visit would make up for a lifetime's worth of just being a shitty mom. I fucking hate her."

He frowned at me. "You shouldn't say that about your mom."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole!" I snapped. "What in shit do _you_ know? Just because _you_ had a fucking supermom didn't mean we all did, yeah? Some kids have mothers who didn't care about them as much as they cared about the goddamn stock-market. Some women don't accept who you are. Some women aren't meant to be mothers. And my mom was one of them. Don't fucking judge until you know the whole fucking story, all right?"

There was a muscle ticking in his jaw, and he avoided my gaze. "Fine. Sorry."

"Shut the fuck up, I don't need your pity."

"It's not _pity,_ moron, I – oh, forget it." He blew out an exasperated breath. "Whatever, I'm going to bed."

He stomped out of the room but didn't slam the door, thank god. I would've gotten up and punched right through his face if he had, my head hurt enough already without his stupid temper tantrums.

The room was so quiet now that he'd gone. The doctor still hadn't come back with the pajamas, but I didn't care. As soon as my head hit the pillow my eyes shut and I fell asleep.

**_

* * *

What we see depends mainly on what we look for._ ~ John Lubbock**

* * *

When Grimmjow told me that he hated his mom, I didn't believe him. Not one bit. There'd been something raw in his eyes that I really couldn't pin down, something that told me it was all bravado and macho delusion. But we weren't friends and I had no right to that sort of information.

I was just lying in bed that night, but I couldn't sleep at all. Everything had turned entirely too _weird,_ and all because I knew more about Grimmjow than I really wanted to. I wondered how just a few revelations had turned my whole world completely on its head. I mean, Grimmjow had achieved the highest score in the finals out of anyone in the year. He spoke three languages fluently. He was a fucking _vegetarian._

And I was pretty sure he missed his mom. The way he'd talked about her coming to visit him…he sounded almost…I don't know, it was too complicated to define. He'd been in denial about it all but I could see that he was hurt, angry, frustrated – all at the same time. And when he said all that shit about his mom caring more about the stock market than him, about not accepting him, I could see the bitterness in his eyes. It was eating him up.

He was a more complicated person than I'd thought he'd be. And that…it intrigued me. He was so…oh, I don't know. Interesting, I guess? More three-dimensional. Not just a psychopath with anger problems. He had _other _problems, too. Like, serious problems. Grimmjow was messed up. But...

Fuck. So much for keeping out of the bastard's life.


	11. anacrusis

**an⋅a⋅cru⋅sis** _noun_

1. _prosody._ an unstressed syllable or syllable group that begins a line of verse but is not counted as part of the first foot.

2. _music._ the note or notes preceding a downbeat; upbeat.

* * *

After that little incident, life in general was OK. Not great. But what could I have expected?

I got beaten up a lot more times. Mostly that was the fault of this cocky shit Aizen'd just hired, someone called Luppi, some asshole who seemed intent on pissing me off. At first I couldn't tell if he was a boy or girl, until I heard the rumor that he'd fucked Cirucci. And then I was like, yeah, well, who hasn't.

We were supposed to work together, but I hated his guts and he hated mine. Not really conducive to good teamwork, I'd say. He stirred so much shit up about me, you would not believe. The amount of anger he managed to inspire in other people was insane. And somehow, he also managed to make those same people direct their anger at _me _instead of him. The rumors he spread-

Fuck, it still makes me mad to think about.

It carried on for a couple of months, until he died in some accident. Apparently he'd got his head blown off but I didn't give a shit, I was just glad he was out of the picture because it meant that he couldn't tell powerful people that I'd fucked their wife or stolen some of their goods (whatever it might have been). During those months I'd never had so many bruises.

I never went to the hospital. I memorized the route to the Kurosaki clinic - it was free healthcare and good food, and I actually got to experience what it was like living with a functioning family unit. Even though I wasn't part of it, it was a nice feeling. Kind of. I guess. If you were into that sorta thing.

I found that I could remember their names after a while - Isshin, Yuzu, Karin - and they treated me like I was a friend or a family member. At first it was awkward, but mostly on my part. They took no notice of me being awkward. That family was the weirdest I ever met. And the nicest.

Sometimes, I was almost sorry to leave in the morning. I would have accepted more jobs from Aizen if it meant being a part of that house, for all that it would last less than a few hours each time.

But I always shook myself out of it. I'd tell myself that I didn't care about being part of a family, especially not _Kurosaki Ichigo's_ family, and I'd go on with my life. I would never feel comfortable going there by myself, would never even think about just dropping by for a visit or just for fun – it wasn't like I was a _real _friend of the family. I was just a regular patient. That was it.

I allowed myself a minute or two of weakness, though, just from time to time. I pretended that my family was like that. I pretended that everything bad that had happened to me had never come to pass.

It almost worked – and it almost became a routine, Kurosaki finding me and taking me to his house. It was almost a routine.

Almost.

_**

* * *

Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.**_** ~ Christian Morgenstern**

* * *

It had stopped being so much of a surprise, finding Grimmjow looking like shit in that same little side-street just about every week like clockwork. It was like the prick did it on purpose just so I could go out of my way and waste precious time and effort dragging him to the clinic and patching him up. He certainly wasn't grateful for the free medical help he was getting (although it wasn't really free, Grimmjow's father had found out about it and had insisted on paying dad) but soon enough he became a familiar presence at the house and he was gracious enough then: he was polite to Yuzu, he put up with dad, he humored Karin and generally he ignored me. Which was annoying but I resigned myself to never getting along with him, and soon the fact that we didn't talk to each other even became enjoyable, because it meant we weren't tearing each other's throats out.

Nell was probably the only good thing to come out of my association with him. I'd seen her alone and forlorn in the lunch hall, sitting at a table and picking at her rice, and I'd felt sorry for her so I invited her to sit with me on the roof with the others. She was suspicious at first but I explained that I'd known Grimmjow for a long while (I, uh, missed out the part about us hating each other's guts) and she seemed to warm up to me more then.

I found I enjoyed her company, which wasn't a thing I could say for many other people. She was sweet and easy to please, and sometimes she slipped into German or mixed up her Japanese, but never in a way that made her look less intelligent than I knew she was. It was endearing. And she taught us some German - Renji pestered her to teach him the swear words, of course; Inoue wanted to learn interesting new German recipes; Rukia was only interested in watching Nell interact with everyone else.

I could tell that Rukia watched Nell and Renji most of all. But I was sure that it'd been bound to happen sooner or later, for all that Rukia said she thought real-life romance was boring. And I knew Renji was overprotective of Rukia, and that he had been since they were young. The two had a complicated history; Renji'd admitted himself that he was never sure if he thought of Rukia as just a sister, or something else. Which was kind of disturbing, really, if you thought about it.

It was weird, thinking about my friends in romantic relationships. Renji wasn't a virgin, he had lost it as soon as he could, and Ikkaku was the same - Yumi couldn't find someone deserving enough of his beauty and charm, whereas Rangiku had been ready to do anything with anyone in the name of a good time. Rukia liked her smutty yaoi manga and said it was enough for her, and Chad was probably gonna end up as a monk or something while Ishida had fallen for Inoue (to everyone else but her it was obvious).

But Inoue herself…I had an inkling that she might've liked _me, _but that was confusing. What did I do about it, after all? I didn't feel the same way, she reminded me too much of Yuzu, just like Rukia reminded me of Karin, but I didn't want to lead her on_ or_ reject her and hurt her feelings.

I didn't like to think about it, and so I shoved it to the back of my mind. There were exams galore coming up in a couple of short months, and I didn't have the time to think of Romance.

Well, apart from the fake kind. After I'd gotten over my (entirely justified) reservations about the whole pretending-to-be-gay-with-Renji thing, it had proven to be kind of fun. The reactions it got from everybody else were worth the embarrassment and I could honestly say that I enjoyed it, because really, who doesn't love a good bromance. As for Renji, he'd thrown himself into the play-acting with almost, er, unnerving enthusiasm, but instead of the sexy flirtation he'd been aiming for in the first place we'd settled, almost unknowingly, into the roles of an old married couple. I found that I couldn't see myself at school without the company of my crazy friends now. They just made life...better.

But I couldn't slack off at all, not even then. I'd decided on studying Medicine at college, and since it was insanely competitive I found myself working harder than ever. My endless studying was broken only by Renji adamantly demanding that we go out for a good time at least once in a while, and during those sessions we got in contact with old friends from the Academy. Me, Renji and the gang had been pretty famous then, and it appeared that our reputation hadn't diminished a bit. Sometimes Ishida or Chad joined us, and I liked to think that it was thanks to my good influence that they were finally loosening up a bit at last.

Everything seemed to be going well. There would be a break in one or two weeks, and it was a short one, but I was looking forward to it anyway; I could already tell that Renji had Plans.

Even Grimmjow seemed to be behaving. He turned up at school sometimes, for no reason at all apart from 'to check if Nelliel was dead yet' (or that was the reason he gave, anyway) and one day he walked straight up to me and, to everyone's surprise, did not initiate a fight or an argument.

"Kurosaki, I'm looking for something and I think you might have it."

"Like what, sensitivity and social skills?"

"Funny, but no. I think I lost my watch at your…at the clinic. It's bright blue and gold. The glass is cracked. The straps're falling off."

I stopped to think for a second. It _did_ ring a bell. "I think…it sounds familiar. I think I might have seen something like that. I'll check."

"Give it back to me."

I backed away from the threatening expression on Grimmjow's face. "How the hell can I do that? It's probably still at home lying in a cupboard somewhere. I'll bring it to school tomorrow."

"You better not forget."

"Yeah, whatever, I'll try," I said, yawning in his face.

I completely forgot about the whole subject and didn't remember to take it with me the next day. The same thing happened for a straight week, and then Grimmjow said to me, "Fuck it, Kurosaki, I'm gonna stalk you till you give it back."

I scowled at him, because I was walking home and Grimmjow was being completely true to his word, dogging my footsteps, standing and walking so close that it made me edgy.

"Fuck off, you creepy bastard, I won't forget about it this time!"

"You've been saying that for a week now, forgive me if I don't believe you."

I set my jaw and kicked at a random stone to vent my contained frustration, sending it skittering away. Having Grimmjow so close was unnerving. I still couldn't suppress the feeling that the ass was gonna somehow sneak up on me and give me a wedgie or throw me to the ground and beat me into a pulp or something. 'Predatory' was the only word to describe him right now.

"Why are you so worked up about this anyway?" I asked. "Is it expensive?"

"No, it just pisses me off when I lose something. Doesn't matter what it is – a watch, a fight, anything. If I lose something, I get it back. Always."

"So you don't even like it that much?"

"Not really."

"Good," I said. "It's really disgustingly gaudy. That's why I remembered it so well."

"What can I say?" he drawled. "I have great taste."

"And a one-track mind, apparently," I muttered. He only laughed – or cackled, really – and the sound made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I frowned, having heard that same laugh so many times before; I looked at Grimmjow's face and these was a abrupt flash of memory, an image superimposed on the face of the Grimmjow I knew now, an image of him as a nine year old boy kicking me in the stomach and laughing. The picture was so vivid and crystal clear it shocked me.

A chill tickled my spine and I clenched my jaw, walking faster. Grimmjow glanced at me with an eyebrow raised before moving to match my speed. The silence betweenus was strained, but we reached my place within minutes, thank god.

I knew without looking that I was in for a hell of an evening. There were half a dozen cars more than usual parked outside my house and when I entered and called out I was greeted by several very familiar, and very drunk, faces.

"Ichigoooo! Oh man, how you've grooown!"

I closed my eyes as one of them draped themselves all over me. "Yoruichi, what are you doing?"

She grinned and pinched my cheeks. Fuck, she knew I hated that. "We're here to visit! I haven't seen you for so long, and I was missing my little Ichi-bo…ooh, who's this? A friend?"

"Yes, Ichigo, introduce us to your little friend!" someone else chirped.

Oh god no. "Urahara. You too?"

He shook his head and sighed, waving his ever-present paper fan in front of his face like it was the peak of summer. "What what? I am merely 'Urahara' now? Oh, gone are the days when I was called Kisuke-niichan and loved and looked up to-"

"Don't be an idiot, I never did any of that."

"Yoruichi-san! His words wound me so!" he wailed.

I could only watch in amazement as Yoruichi peeled herself off me and smothered Urahara Kisuke in an adoring embrace. And I'd thought she could actually take her alcohol.

"Who the fuck are these people?" Grimmjow asked from behind me.

I'd almost forgotten he'd been there. "Huh? Oh. These are my dad's friends."

"And why are they here?"

"To make my life hell," I replied shortly, striding into the kitchen, where yet more of my dad's old colleagues and friends were sitting at the table, drowning themselves in beer and sake. I saw Kyouraku Shunsui and Shiba Kuukaku there – ah, so only the alcoholic ones had turned up. If Jyuushiro or Aunt Retsu had been there people might had showed some restraint, but, as Ishida would say, 'the gaping lack of any sobering presences whatsoever only prophecy a thorough abandonment of sensibilities'.

And the coming of some godawful hangovers the next morning, of course. I hoped that there was at least one sober person present in the house, because there was no way in hell I was letting any of them drive back home themselves. I had enough stuff on my plate without worrying about these immature morons crashing into houses or running innocent people over. Sometimes, it was like I was the father of the household and my dad was the retarded son.

Actually, scratch that._ Most _of the time, I _did _act like I was the father of the household and my dad _was_ actually pretty damn retarded. I have no idea how he got through med school.

"Old man!" I bellowed, smacking him on the head. "What the crap is this? You've got a clinic to run! Get to it!"

"But Ichigo…" dad whimpered. "I closed up early and since everyone just turned up at the same time by chance-"

"It was coordinated, moron! They want to ensnare you in their web of alcoholism and idiocy. Don't you dare let them, I won't put up with the shame of having such an irresponsible father." I paused. "By the way, have you seen that ugly blue and gold watch Yuzu was talking about anywhere?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes at the insult. Dad burped and he and Shunsui started to giggle. They calmed themselves sheepishly when faced with my glare and dad pointed to the table in the hallway.

"It should be there, I think Yuzu-chan put it there when she was cleaning."

I went to the table and sure enough, there it was, nestled in the bowl we kept for random knick-knacks none of us wanted or knew what to do with. I picked the watch up and threw it at Grimmjow, who caught it effortlessly.

"There you go," I said. "Now piss off."

Grimmjow cocked his head. "Someone's being a grumpyguts. The hell is your problem?"

"You are. Get out of my house."

The only response I got was a short, disdainful laugh. "Who's the insecure one now? Got a bee in your bonnet?"

I recognized that tone of voice. I'd heard it almost every day for three years when I was a kid. My eyes narrowed. "You know the way out, but I'll show you anyway. Don't want you being ambushed by Yoruichi, now."

"It's not even a problem, dickhead. I don't like girls, remember?"

"Like I could forget."

"You have no fucking manners, Kurosaki."

"Like you're one to talk," I snapped back. "Just-"

"Ichigooo..."

Aw fuck no, they were back. "What is it, Yoruichi?"

She wiggled a half-empty bottle of sake in front of my face, grinning. "You wanna join us?"

"Of course not," I said. "I have homework to do."

She sighed. "Such a party pooper...but..." Her golden eyes slid to Grimmjow, sparkling evilly. "How about you?"

Wait, what?

Shit. No. Nononono, don't do this to me-

He smirked. "What about me?"

"Can you take your alcohol, boy?" she asked, returning the smile. She was a beautifully exotic woman, with cocoa-colored skin and big golden eyes and purple-black hair, and she was completely aware of the effect she had on men.

Most men, anyway. I knew she would've felt confused that Grimmjow didn't react at all to her pressing up against his body in order to persuade him. He raised an eyebrow, completely unmoved; she looked intrigued at his utter nonchalance; I only reacted to the mortifying scene by staring in dumb horror.

"I can take whatever you got," Grimmjow said smoothly, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Yoruichi always loved a challenge. She chuckled. "I like you, boy, you seem like fun. What's your name?"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. Jaegerjaques is the family name."

"Sure is a mouthful." She arched one perfect eyebrow.

He grinned wolfishly. "Not the only part of me that's a mouthful."

Yoruichi broke out into raucous laughter, "Oh, I definitely like you!" She took a hold of his arm, pulling him to the kitchen. "Come on in, then, little Grimmjow, we got _everything. _You're gonna enjoy tonight._"_

I almost whimpered. "No, Yoruichi-"

"Not now Ichi-bo, we need to be attending to the guest."

"But-"

"I think you heard her, _Ichi-bo,"_ Grimmjow said to me, that evil smile still on his face. "Don't be such a tight-ass."

Was it my imagination, or did his eyes actually glance down at my ass when he said that?

"Yeaaah!" Yoruichi crowed. "Come join us, Ichi!"

I closed my eyes and sighed. The thought of detention for not handing in Chemistry homework, versus the embarrassing secrets all of these people would inevitably tell Grimmjow while they were pickling their livers – oh, what to choose.

In the end, Yoruichi won out. These people, they remembered every single second of my childhood, knew stuff even Chad didn't know (and I told Chad everything, he was the most trustworthy man on the planet) even down to the color of the sweater I was wearing when I accidentally threw up on Uncle Mayuri when I was three (OK, it was out of fear and I feel that it was entirely reasonable, since he was and still is an extremely disturbing creep. I mean, he looks like a fucking clown. No one likes clowns). Therefore I felt that it was necessary to keep an eye on them.

So I was willing to keep them appeased, most of the time, to stay on their good side. I let them coo over my growth, their asking about school and sport and, of course, girls. I put up with it for a whole four hours that day. I put up with Grimmjow getting plastered. I put up with _them_ getting plastered, and then, inevitably, dredging up every detail of my life from birth to the present day and sharing them with him.

Shunsui giggled, red-faced. "Oh, do you remember when he wet himself the first time old man Yama held him as a baby?"

"I was six months old, it's hardly surprising!"

"And when he thought Byakuya was a girl and called him _Miss_ Kuchiki." Kuukaku sniggered, her impressive cleavage threatening to spill from the two strips of cloth she called a shirt. "I'll never forget the look on that boy's face, he was _outraged-"_

"Ooh, ooh, what about when..."

And on and on and on. Even though I was right there in front of them, even though they knew I would never forgive them - they told him everything. And I mean _everything._ I just – I can't even describe how murderous I felt. They were all having so much fun together, it was...it was alarming.

"That is too fucking hilarious!" Grimmjow hooted; it was almost ten in the evening and he was so drunk he was almost paralyzed. "Did you really set fire to the school?"

"It was Renji's fault," I grumbled. "He encouraged me. And it wasn't the whole school, just the biology lab-"

"And you blew up the toilets?"

"...The fireworks slipped."

"And putting a giant 'For Sale' sign on the roof?"

"That was...OK, that was me."

Grimmjow calmed himself down, and looked at me with thoughtful eyes, grinning. "Didn't know you had the balls to be a rebel."

I didn't dignify it with a response and just frowned at the ceiling. Everyone was drunk. Everyone was happy. Grimmjow was laughing and shouting and getting along supremely well with them, and I didn't like it. They didn't have the right to like him. Not while I-

"I'm going to bed," I muttered, leaving.

I did my homework. I got ready for school the next day. I think all of them kept the party going until the small hours of the morning. I don't know how they got home. I don't know how Grimmjow got home. I didn't give a shit - that night, his laugh, sharp as a razor and just as cruel, kept ringing in my head, and I couldn't sleep a wink.

Dammit. I kept thinking I'd put it behind me, and then it all went to shit whenever he opened his mouth. We were just kids. It was years ago. I shouldn't care, I _shouldn't._

What was wrong with me? With him? Why couldn't I _just get over it?_

Why couldn't I just _forget? _

_**

* * *

Forgiveness means letting go of the past.**_** ~ Gerald Jampolsky**

* * *

Renji could tell I was out of sorts during the next few days. He walked into class with his underpants on his head and took me in his arms and demanded to know what was wrong.

"You should know already," I said, glaring. "You would be able to tell if you really loved me."

"Ichigo, my darling, work has been crazy, they've made me work like a dog-"

"Are you sure it's work?" I asked icily. "Or were you with that _whore_ Shuuhei all night?"

"Don't bring Shuu-chan into this!"

"Shuu-chan? _Shuu-chan!_ That's what he is to you?"

"Ichigo-"

"And I'm only _Ichigo._ So this is how you repay my love? I slave away for you, I cook and I clean and for all that I'm only Ichigo?"

Renji looked at me, eyes brimming, clasping my hands to his chest. "Tell me what I can do to make it up to you," he said urgently.

"Make love to me, Renji," I breathed.

I could see Grimmjow out of the corner of my eye. I hadn't talked to him since that horrific night; he was at school, for once, and I noticed that at the moment he was glaring at Renji and tapping the end of a pencil against his desk. His eyes met mine. I was the first to look away.

Renji held my head in his hands tenderly. "Oh, Ichigo..."

"Renji..."

One of his thumbs brushed over my lips and the pencil Grimmjow was holding snapped in half. His glare became so venomous I was surprised Renji didn't melt on the spot.

"That's quite enough," Ochi-sensei said, walking into the class. "Please remove the underwear from your head, Abarai-kun. And detach your person from Kurosaki-kun. Unless you both want a week's worth of detention?"

Renji sniffed as he sat down next to me, pulling the boxers off and smoothing down his hair. "They don't understand our love."

"I know. Do you think she's homophobic or just jealous?"

"Both, maybe." He abruptly leveled me with a serious look. "Ichigo, what's up?"

I avoided his eyes. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Renji watched me for a moment, knowing I wouldn't tell him if he pried. So he said, "Coming to my place after school?"

"Well…"

"I'll make okonomiyaki."

I wavered. Ishida turning around in his seat and butted into our conversation: "May I just say, Kurosaki, that I think you forgetting about all the hard work you have to do and _frolicking _with Abarai and the rest of your little group of thugs while I sit here and _slave away_ so that I can get into medical school-"

"Renji makes the best okonomiyaki this side of the country," I said.

Renji nodded. "Damn straight,"

"So of course I have to go. Sorry about skipping out on our study session and all, but this food can't be missed. Special recipe from your mom, right Ren-chan?"

"She told me to make her proud."

Ishida pursed his lips, looking disapproving like he always did. "I see. At least tell me you did your Math homework. Or were you in too much of a drunken haze to write or think?"

I huffed. "No, because _someone _was at 'work'."

"Ichigo, I already explained the situation-"

"What about you, Abarai?" said Ishida, adjusting his glasses and looking at Renji coolly, who blew him a kiss in return.

"I did it too. It was damn hard though."

"Don't be ridiculous, it was easy."

"Fuck _you__,_ bitch!"

"Class!" Ochi-sensei slammed a book down on her desk and everyone winced at the sound. "OK, people, we have work to do soon. Serious, serious work; it's time to get down to _business…"_

For months there was no break, not until New Year's. I was surprised I came out of it alive, but even after all that there were other things that cropped up, things that I had tried to forget. It was a grotesque sort of anniversary: almost exactly a year ago I'd seen Grimmjow that fateful night.

I still remembered it. I wondered if Grimmjow did too. Then I had no more time to think about what _had been, _and my mind was full of what was _now,_ and what _would be._ And it was all Grimmjow's fault, of course. What else could I have expected?


	12. lightning bolt

**rev·e·la·tion**_ noun_

1. the act of revealing or disclosing; disclosure.

2. something revealed or disclosed, esp. a striking disclosure, as of something not before realized.

* * *

Sometimes I still think about it. In the future, I'd ask myself if it had all started on that night. Nothing significant really seemed to happen, if I have to be honest, just 'cuz it had started out as a day like any other.

"_Grimmjow, I have a job for you."_

Aizen's voice was always smooth and smarmy, even over the phone. I tried to hold my cellphone as far away from my ear as possible. "Yeah?"

"_Nothing too big. There's someone I need you to, ah, __coax an item from. You know the agenda."_

"Does it have to be today? I was planning on something-"

"_Yes?"_ he asked pleasantly.

I gritted my teeth. "Just...school stuff."

"_While it's nice to know you're finally taking your education seriously, this is rather important."_

When he said it like that, I knew it was case closed.

"_Ulquiorra will meet you at the usual place. Three o' clock. Don't be late."_

"Wait, I-"

He'd hung up. I resisted the urge to redial and scream at him, settling for kicking a wall. Goddamn. I _hated _that asshole.

But I did was I was told in any case, just to get it over with. Everything went smoothly for a while. It was fast and easy, just a few bullets here and there and the guy was just intimidated enough, giving us what Aizen wanted.

It was just a little packet in a folded over envelope, so I didn't get what the big deal was, but we gave him a ton of money for it anyway (in a briefcase, of course – how clichéd can you get?) but then – _then,_ it had all gone to shit – I don't even fucking _know _how - and there I was a few hours later, lying in an alleyway, vaguely wondering if Karakura was made of nothing _but_ alleyways, there were thousands of the damn things.

Or maybe it just seemed like that because I'd been running through them for the last half an hour trying to get away from a bunch of unreasonable bastards who couldn't take a few strongly-worded suggestions without getting all offended about it.

_And _they'd all gone after _me_ too, and not that clown Ukelala. Bastard. Where had _he_ slithered off to?

I sighed, irritated. The packet Aizen wanted was still with me. I took it out and opened it. The only thing inside was a tape.

A fucking tape.

That was it? This was what Aizen wanted so bad he'd pay millions of yen for it?

Well, fuck.

Who the fuck used tapes nowadays anyway? Hadn't they heard of digital media?

I was so unimpressed. It was pretty small. Not like the type people used for music, more like something you'd put in an old-fashioned camcorder.

This was what I'd gotten beaten up for. Ridiculous. It was-

I heard a voice. There was some muffled steps, not far away, and I stiffened and stuffed the tape into the inside pocket of my coat. Some of those assholes'd gotten more than a few punches in and parts of my body that were not supposed to be creaking were defiantly doing so.

But the sounds turned out to be Kurosaki – who else? – strolling by, music blasting through his oversized headphones. I remembered that this was on his way home from school. What great fucking luck.

I stood, just a little unsteadily, and caught his eye. He saw me, stopped and sighed and turned off the music.

"You'll go deaf if you keep that up," I said.

"Like I haven't heard that before. What've you done this time?"

I shrugged casually. "Oh, the usual. My boss Aizen got me on some bullshit job and now I've got some wannabe yakuza on my tail. Aw, I can hear them now."

He frowned. I couldn't remember if he knew that I worked for a delusional psychopath, but that wasn't really the problem at the moment.

"Yakuza?" he said. "That's OK, they're usually a buncha pussies. How many?"

"Maybe eight or nine."

"Armed?"

"Clubs, sticks, stones, nun-chucks."

"The fuck? People actually use them?"

"Better believe it. They're getting closer."

Kurosaki sighed again, stuffed his iPod into his pocket and his pulled his headphones down around his neck, then took out his phone and called an ambulance. When he was finished he put the phone away.

I watched him through narrowed eyes. "I don't need your help."

"Yeah, like you don't _need_ a couple of broken bones." His gaze was cool and measuring. "You think you don't need my help. But do you _want _it?"

I actually had to think about it. "I…"

Kurosaki cracked his knuckles, and a bizarre change swept over him. His eyes became grim. "You better not be lying about this. My dad'll kill me if I'm late for dinner."

"Whatever." I set my jaw, stiffening as he came up to stand beside me, our shoulders touching. Under his coat and sweater he was wearing some oversized white dress-shirt and a waistcoat, black slacks and polished black shoes. I half expected him to whip out a top hat and pop a monocle on. He should have looked ridiculous. I wondered if his pants were as tight as they appeared, and that little thought conjured some very…interesting images.

Shouts and the sound of running feet distracted me. Sweat broke out on my forehead. My fists clenched and unclenched. I felt his hand on my arm, trying to calm me down, and it did anything but.

I didn't have time to shake him off - they exploded into view from around a corner and they were on us in an instant. Eight of them, thick-set and ugly as shit, tattooed and bald and screaming so hard their faces looked like wax masks that had melted in the sun.

I thought I heard a sound from Kurosaki – it sounded like he was laughing – but I didn't even have time to blink as punches were thrown and a kick to my stomach sent me reeling backwards, coughing and spluttering. But I recovered and managed to get one of them down with an elbow to the back of the head, I disarmed another one but godfucking_dammit_ there were too many of them, I was too weak, too tired, they'd already given me a good beating, and I wasn't up to my usual standard, not at all. At least I'd taken one or two down before Kurosaki-

Fuck, Kurosaki. I could only stand back and watch. I'd known he was good, but _this…_

When he wanted to the bastard could fight dirty. He took the weapons and used them against the attackers, he grabbed arms and twisted them till they cracked, he punched and kicked and dodged – and god, it was like watching fire or lightning personified, or whatever other stupid cliché that could be used to describe a person who fought like they'd been born to. He used moves I'd only ever seen in films, and even though he got more than his fair share of hits he hardly ever got beaten to the ground. And when he did he got right back up again and gave as good as he got.

I was holding my breath. I wasn't even aware of it. Before I could speak again, though, it was almost over and they were lying on the ground, groaning and whimpering.

Kurosaki was pulling me to him, holding onto my shoulders; I could tell I was helping him stand just as much as he was supporting me.

I was pressed against the wall. He was inches away from me, panting, his warm breath puffing against my face. Crimson blood was dripping down his tanned skin from his nose, staining his lips a vibrant red; his brown eyes were gleaming with the emotions that I knew were mirrored in my own, and we were both wheezing, breathless, our bodies buzzing with the rush of adrenaline.

Kurosaki started to grin, and the sight of his red, red mouth and his burning brown eyes set against that tanned skin, skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat-

It was like something aching in my chest, some vice was gripping my ribs tighter and tighter. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.

But that throb of_…something…_was short-lived. Kurosaki said something, and the soundless, slow-motion dream cracked and fell apart.

I blinked. "What?"

"I said, are you OK? You can walk, right?"

I swallowed. Kurosaki's breath smelled of peppermint; he'd been chewing gum before all this happened. He liked peppermint gum. It was an interesting discovery. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I think."

He licked his red lips. My eyes followed the movement hungrily.

Kurosaki's brown eyes flickered to the figures lying on the ground. "We should go. I can hear the ambulance. I'd rather not be in one of them, myself."

"Yeah?"

"Bad childhood experience. C'mon, let's go."

We started to stagger down the street; I stumbled and Kurosaki grabbed me and hauled me upright again. Our arms were around each other's shoulders, and the feeling of it was starting to get familiar. He'd carried me to the clinic enough times for it to feel natural. We reached a road, which was fairly big but deserted, and he pulled away from me and got out his phone again. As soon as he moved away I realized it was fucking freezing. The adrenaline began to wear off and I started shivering.

"I called my dad," Kurosaki said. "He said he'd pick us up in a few."

"I'm fine, I'll just go home. I'm not some kind of little doll, dickhead, I don't break easily."

He nodded, then reached out and pressed one finger against my right shoulder. White-hot pain lanced down my arm.

"Holy fucking _shit!" _I stepped away, snarling. "You asshole, what was that for?"

"You're coming to the clinic with me," he said.

I couldn't argue with that voice. I glared at him but didn't say anything else.

We stood there in silence for a couple minutes. I noticed that Kurosaki was trying to wipe the congealing blood from his face, but it was sticky and instead of getting rid of it, he was smearing it around by using his sleeve. He would have a black eye soon, and his hands were covered in cuts, livid and red against the bronze of his skin. He started searching for something, patting his pockets and pulling up his sleeves. As soon as he touched his neck, he grimaced. "Ah, shit."

"What now?"

"My headphones're gone. Damn, and they were my favorite!"

"I'll buy you a new pair."

Kurosaki opened his mouth, then shut it and gave me a strange look. "OK, fine. You owe me, anyway."

"Like shit. It was you who wanted to be all heroic and save poor little Grimmjow from the big bad bullies."

There was a moment of silence, and then he said quietly, "Yeah. Because that's such a terrible and inhuman thing to want to do."

Something in his voice stopped me from saying anything more.

"Anyway," Kurosaki said again, and he was obviously trying to sound breezy. "I used to be able to take half a dozen guys like that no problem. I just wanted to see if I was getting rusty or not. No big deal. And without me there you'd have been mincemeat, don't even deny it."

I couldn't. It was true. Fuck.

"I'll buy you your stupid headphones, we're even. Deal?"

He laughed at that. "Even? Are you serious? We're hardly _even,_ Grimmjow, especially after this. But OK, you get what I want, I'll forget about the whole thing."

"Fi-"

"Ah, but one more thing…"

"What?"

"I get to choose what you buy."

I saw the scheming look in his eyes. "Nothing over five thousand yen, asshole."

He scoffed. "Cheap price for your health and safety. Do you really care that little about yourself?"

"You'd be surprised," I said, in a tone that did not invite further discussion. Kurosaki just rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth again. It was still sticky with blood and it was starting to piss me off.

"Kurosaki."

"What?"

"You got a handkerchief or something with you?"

"Er, yeah, I think. Why?" He gave me a weird look.

"Just hand it over."

He raised his eyebrows but did as I asked. I went to a water fountain nearby and wetted it a little, then went back to him. I stood really close, and he didn't move away, just staring into my eyes questioningly. I cupped his cheek.

"You're fucking filthy," I muttered, and started wiping the blood off his face.

He sucked in a breath, but kept still. I couldn't look at his eyes.

His skin was so soft.

Did he moisturize?

I bet he did.

What a faggot.

I cleaned Kurosaki up the best I could then gave his handkerchief back to him. I looked him in the eye and I noticed something else for the first time – the asshole had freckles, dotted across his nose and his cheekbones.

Why the hell was that so fucking hot?

"Grimmjow."

The sound of his voice had me stepping back, not realizing how close I'd been to him before then.

"What?"

"Thanks." His voice sounded a little strange.

"It's nothing."

"Er, you…are you cold?" He'd noticed my shivering.

"Yeah." I was reduced to monosyllables, my heart beating so hard I was sure he could hear it.

"Here." He pulled off his jacket and held it out to me. "I've got a sweater on. I'll be fine."

I wanted so badly to say no. To smack his hand away, snarl that I didn't need his help or his pity or his concern, that he could burn in hell and I wouldn't give a shit. I wanted to say he was nothing to me. That I didn't care that he'd saved my life.

But not a word would come out. So I took the jacket, and draped it over my shoulders.

It was still warm from the heat of his body.

He was standing so close. It was hard to breathe.

Kurosaki bit down on his lip, and a weird little tingle shot into my belly at the sight. "You know, I don't even know what that was about. Why were those guys chasing you down? It's not 'cause of the whole gay thing, is it?"

"Fuck no, that's old news. No. It's because I work for Aizen Sousuke." I paused, waiting for the impressed expression to surface on his face. It never came.

He just looked confused. "Yeah, you mentioned that name. Who is he?"

"You don't know?" How the fuck could he not know who Aizen Sousuke was?

"If I _ask _who he is, then_ obviously_ I don't know who he is!" he said impatiently. "What is he, some kind of celebrity?"

"Not really. Just an extremely rich and influential businessman."

"Oh. One of _them."_

I snorted. "Exactly. Snobbish, creepy, ruthless. A total dick. I work for him, have done since I was twelve." I saw the questioning look in his eyes. "Yeah, twelve. It's complicated, OK?"

"What do you do? Are you like a secretary?"

The thought made me laugh. "What? Are you retarded? I'm hired muscle, idiot."

He still didn't get it. "A bodyguard?"

"No, moron, I mean that he has various shady dealings that he doesn't want anyone else to know about, just like every other successful person in the world, and he…" It was hard to put it delicately. "Well, he gives me jobs to do so that…he can keep on doing those shady things."

"Oh. Oh, right. Is that why you kept on getting beaten up so much?"

"Not really. That was just one guy who had it in for me. Luppi." I sighed and grinned. "But he's dead now, thank god. Got his head blown off months ago."

There must've been something in my voice that worried him, because Kurosaki stared at me for a moment then said slowly, "Grimmjow, you...you aren't, like, a hitman or anything…are you?"

"What? No! This isn't some kind of movie, I don't do any of that shit. It's more like when Aizen makes a deal he doesn't want most people to know about, I go and negotiate. And if the other guy gets cold feet or something, I visit and…help things along."

"Right."

"I have contacts, thanks to my parents. You know. 'Cause they're bigshot businesspeople and all. They don't know that I do all this, though."

"What exactly _do_ you do?"

"Everything I just said. And I organize stuff."

"What stuff?"

I looked at him carefully. "You sure you wanna know?"

"Never mind," Kurosaki muttered, after a moment's thought. "I really don't."

I opened my mouth to elaborate, but then I thought he might not wanna hear it. So I just said, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"School."

"They teach that sort of shit at school? I should go more often."

"No, not…not normal school. I went to this sort of military school thing, my dad used to go there and he was a teacher there too, for a bit. I learned it there. I know some karate. Stupid wannabe gangsters pick fights with me all the time, and sometimes you learn shit from them. What not to do. And of course, there was Kenpachi. You heard of Zaraki Kenpachi?"

"No."

"That'll piss him off." Kurosaki smiled, nostalgic. "He's amazing. Brutal. One of the strongest guys I know, and he taught me shit about street-fighting that most people couldn't even imagine. He was one of the teachers at my school, and everyone was absolutely fucking terrified of him. I was too, before I got to know him. He's cool. Ikkaku and Renji and Yumi know him as well as I do, probably better. So does Rukia, but she was never in his squad, so she only ever heard of him, so to speak."

"Squad?"

"It's complicated. People were put into groups according to their talents, and they were assigned a teacher to take care of them and stuff. Mine changed a lot. But I knew all of the teachers anyway, they're all old friends of my dad's, so it didn't make a difference."

"So those guys that I got drunk with at your place ages ago, they were your old teachers?"

He groaned. "Yeah, that was them."

"I still can't believe you did all that stuff. You were one messed-up kid."

"Shut up," he mumbled, turning red. "Don't dig up traumatizing memories now, or I'll be tempted to finish what those guys back there started."

I cracked my knuckles, laughing, and stretched lazily; I took out a cigarette from a crumpled, forgotten pack and lit up, inhaling deeply. Kurosaki was disgusted.

"You smoke?"

"Have done for years."

"That's repulsive."

"Calms me down."

"I doubt that, smoking only raises your blood pressure. And it causes blood clots and strokes and all sorts of shit." He saw me roll my eyes and frowned. "Grimmjow, it'll kill you."

"Don't make me laugh. A lot of things could kill me, and trust me, this ain't gonna be what does it."

"Sure." Kurosaki stared at me for a second longer, then smirked. "Hah. I should've seen it before. It's obvious you're gay."

"Yeah? How, smartass?"

"You hold your cigarettes like a girl."

"Oh, fuck you."

He grinned at me, just a plain wide friendly smile, and my heart started thumping so hard in my chest I thought it'd beat itself all the way up my throat and out my mouth. His dad pulled up to us almost at the same instant; we piled in and were treated to a ten-minute-long lecture about the danger of fighting, gangs, smoking, drugs and forgotten banana peels on the floor, but I didn't listen to any of it. Kurosaki's hand was touching mine, very lightly, and it was all I could concentrate on.

We were both patched up at the clinic and that night I fell asleep in the room I'd come to think of as mine. In the morning I had breakfast and left before Kurosaki was even awake, wondering all the way through it why I felt so strange. I put it down to a cold and went home.

But I knew, deep down, what had happened.

And I'll always remember that night, because that was when my feelings for him changed from a mere inconvenient attraction into something just a_ little_ more.

_**

* * *

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend. ~ **_**Martin Luther King, Jr.**

* * *

Aizen asked about the tape. He was insistent about it. So much that I started to think, maybe it was more important than it looked.

I gave him a replacement, something that was the exact same make and age and everything. He would spot something suspicious, but hopefully he wouldn't know I'd taken it.

And I still didn't have a clue why I had. Maybe it was a slip of the mind. I'd forgotten to take it out from my pocket. I left that coat stuffed into a corner of my wardrobe, not wanting anyone to find it. I knew that little tape wasn't anything good. Anything Aizen wanted wouldn't be good.

It was just a feeling. You know, like when you know something bad is gonna happen. Like an omen or something.

Or maybe I'm just talking shit.

Aizen never mentioned that incident again, but the guy we'd bought the tape off of, he ended up floating face-down in the river a few days later.

So I decided to not be a retard and kept my trap shut about the whole affair.


	13. punch and punch back

**e·qual·i·ty **_noun _

the state or quality of being equal; correspondence in quantity, degree, value, rank, or ability.

* * *

On the first day of school after the winter break I started things off by brooding at my desk, wondering where the hell everyone else was and how Rangiku always,_ always_ persuaded me to drink too much for my own good. My head throbbed painfully as Renji flung open the doors and strode in, as loud as always.

"Ichigo!" he yelled, looking delighted. My head pounded and I scowled at him. "Darling! Sorry I'm late, but don't worry, I'm here now."

"It's nice to know you two haven't changed," Tatsuki commented, walked up to us and smacking me on the back of the head.

"Tatsuki, _ow. _Hungover, here."

"It's your own damn fault for drinking on a school night. And where were you all during break, anyway?"

"We went to the beach," Renji said. "Sun, sea, relaxation."

"Renji, it's _January."_

"When we went it was December. What's your point?"

She gave up. "What I mean to say is, isn't the beach for summer? It's going to be spring in a few months, and you need to be outside, staking out good spots for cherry-blossom watching. Not eating watermelons and pissing in the sea."

"Pfft, I don't conform to society's restrictions."

"I can see that, given your illicit relationship with Ichigo here."

"Who says it's illicit?" Renji and me asked at the same time. Then we were interrupted by Ishida and Chad coming into class, followed by Rukia and Inoue – soon, everybody was there and they were all regaling each other with stories of what had happened during winter break. I just heard white noise, collapsed on my desk and wondering why I had to go and get hungover on a school night, and only actively started trying to _not _listen to them when Rukia and Renji started arguing and Ishida began to make goo-goo eyes at Inoue. I knew it all already, anyway.

I saw a flash of icy blue hair and raised my head, which spun, only when Grimmjow sauntered in.

Renji broke off from his argument. "What the…what is Jaegerjaques doing here? Did he even pass the exams?"

"He was in the top ten," Ishida said, pushing up his glasses, disgruntled. "So obviously being first in the finals last year wasn't a one-off."

Renji grinned. "Still sore about that?"

"Of course not." This meant that he clearly was.

Soon they were all arguing like little children again while I buried my head in my arms and tried to stop existing, only stopping when Renji suddenly announced that he would perform a magic trick and distracted us all by gagging and pulling a series of brightly-colored handkerchiefs from his mouth, all knotted together to produce a rope.

That little act had me stewing in amazement for at least the next two days, but apart from that one bright spot the rest of the year was just about the same as the all of our other times at school - only a lot less fun. The novelty of high school as a whole had long worn off, and the teachers were harder on us than ever; I was pushed to my limits at soccer and basketball and karate and almost gave them all up; dad's crazy friends visited more often, Renji and Ikkaku got more and more outrageous with each week ("It's a way to deal with the stress, Ichi," Renji said, which was Renji-speak for "I can't be assed with all this work anymore.") and I…well, I finally found Romance. Of a sort.

It was a girl from another school. We didn't date; I was drunk, she came on to me and kissed me and I never saw her again. I felt cheated, not only because I would've liked to know who I had given my first kiss to, but also because I actually wanted to remember what it had been like. Renji told me it didn't count if you couldn't remember doing it, but that was hardly reassuring and it didn't make me feel any better at all.

I told Inoue about it. I don't know why, because it was an incredibly stupid move: she was depressed for weeks and Tatsuki and Rukia gave me the beating of a lifetime, but I managed to salvage my relationship with all of them by explaining my feelings to Inoue, as clearly as possible, so she couldn't mistake them. When I told her I thought of her as more of a sister than anything else, she finally seemed to get that nothing was ever going to happen between us. Our relationship was still horribly awkward for months afterwards, and it wasn't until someone (probably Nell…I'd noticed that she wasn't one for tact) told Inoue about Ishida's crush that things relaxed.

After that it was almost absurdly easy. Days and weeks and months passed and if I found myself weirded out by one thing, it was the fact that someone, above all others, was making an appearance more and more often into my life – and that person was Grimmjow, naturally.

It was kind of inevitable, I suppose. After that time we'd fought off Grimmjow's attackers together something had changed. We were on much friendlier terms than I'd ever thought we could be. I didn't know when it had become normal to see Grimmjow hanging about outside the clinic waiting for me, smoking a cigarette or talking to my sisters.

Dad was confused by the regularity of it all, but took in his stride; nothing surprised Karin, and Yuzu was usually too sweet and shy to ask Grimmjow questions about anything, although I could see she was becoming more and more comfortable around him. And I…I didn't really know what to feel about it. The whole situation was just…odd.

Grimmjow told me about Aizen, described who he was and what he did and even told me about some of his underlings, like Starrk, Harribel, Szayel, Nnoitra, Yammy, and Ulquiorra – he hated Ulquiorra, by the way, the stupid emotionally stunted bastard clown – and there were ten of them in all, Aizen's most trusted lackeys, with intelligence and strength and power that he could use to his advantage. Grimmjow said that he wasn't in the top ten, not yet, but he was still respected and a pretty high up member of what seemed to be, in my opinion at least, a wannabe yakuza gang.

Careless and cocky as always, Ichigo. I always did have a smug little mouth on me. Really, if I have to be honest, they sounded kinda pathetic. I mean, I'd taken almost that whole group by myself.

Of course I said that to Grimmjow when I was at full strength and there were barely more than a handful of them. But when there's about ten surrounding you in a tight circle late at night in a deserted street, angry as hell and armed with a variety of interesting weapons, it's not such a clear-cut situation.

I didn't know who these people were or what they wanted; they'd cornered me on my way back from Renji's house and somehow backed me into a corner. I was so tired, I hadn't noticed until the last minute that they'd set a trap for me. But it was late and I was _really_ not in the mood for this shit.

One guy cracked his knuckles. It was a habit I hated and I immediately detested him, but I popped my gum anyway and wondered when I'd get home. Yuzu had said she would be making udon tonight. I loved udon.

"So, you think you can get away with what you did, huh?" Knuckles growled, interrupting my daydream rudely. What an ass.

"No offence buddy, but do I know you?" I asked. I wasn't impressed, in case you couldn't tell.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The tape!" he snapped. "Have you got it? Where is it?"

I frowned. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that!" He grabbed the front of my shirt. "You got it, right? You stole it from Boss Inugumi, that night months ago!"

"Dude, I didn't steal anything. And would you mind letting go of me, this shirt was expensive and I don't want your grubby hands all over it."

His grip tightened. His teeth were yellow and crooked and he was so close I could smell his breath. God. That shit could curdle fresh milk. I would've offered him some of my gum if I'd been in a nicer mood.

"No more games. Give me the tape, and I won't mess your pretty little face up," he hissed.

Pretty? What the hell! I wasn't _pretty,_ I wasn't some thirteen year old girl! "Screw you, you ugly shit!"

Man, I could be pretty stupid sometimes. The air went still and cold. Knuckles didn't say anything, and by some unspoken signal they all started closing in on me.

Now, before, when me and Grimmjow had fought together, that was different. Those guys had been pretty worn out, they were angry and not thinking straight, just jumping mindlessly into the fray. Me, on the other hand; I'd been as fresh as a daisy and itching for a fight. Grimmjow had already taken care of enough for the rest to be easy meat. It was a breeze.

But this. Well. This was a whole new situation. This was planned, calculated; all these guys were ready and hyped up and not tired at all. They were tall and burly and ready to do some damage, encircling me and cutting me off completely from the rest of the street. Not that it mattered. There was no one there, in any case. To get from Renji's place to mine I had to go through a pretty deserted part of town, and there was never anyone here at this time of night.

There was no one to help me. I was on my own.

Started to get a little worried, then. Just a little.

They didn't leave me room to maneuver and I saw them moving too late. Before I knew it two of them were behind me, grasping my wrists together and tying them tight. I opened my mouth and someone one of them gagged me. I couldn't move. I couldn't talk. When the first hit connected, it was almost all the more painful because I was pretty much helpless. Ten full-grown men against one seventeen year old, and fear was pumping through my veins.

I struggled, of course. What, did you expect me to stand there and take it like Chad would have? No fucking way, I'm not a solid wall like him. I couldn't take that much damage and not get a scratch like he could. So I kicked out and managed to land something hard and vicious at one of the men in front, right on the knee. It crunched painfully under my foot and he howled and fell to the ground, rolling and wailing. The next one got a kick to the crotch, and I'm sure people could hear _his _scream for miles around.

The hand that gripped my hair pulled it back so right it felt like it would tear my head right off. A voice whispered in my ear, "You're gonna wish you hadn't done that, prick!"

One of them grabbed my foot and straightened out the leg until it was stretched and taut. Some of them started laughing, and the leader, the one who had spoken first, he twirled something in his hands. I saw that it was a crowbar. He slid it up my shin slowly, before letting it come to rest on my knee. He tapped it with the crowbar and gave me a nasty smile.

The thin trickle of fear became a flood. The tapping got a little harder. He drew it back, saw the fear in my eyes, the way I was twisting madly, trying to break free, cursing and shouting against the gag.

He was going to smash my kneecap in.

Shit.

Shitshitshit no-

"Not such a tough guy are ya now, huh?" His voice was raspy with triumph.

He raised the crowbar. The hands holding onto me didn't give an inch. There were tears in my eyes.

_Thunk._

The loud, sickening thud came from in front of me. Ugly leader guy's face went slack, his eyes closed, and he fell to the ground in a boneless heap. Behind him, I saw Grimmjow.

And shit, I have _never _been so glad to see someone in my entire life.

He was smoking a cigarette and leaning casually against a serious-looking baseball bat balanced on the ground, a lazy expression on his face.

"Yo, there. What up?"

The cigarette waggled up and down with every word. Smoke curled out his nostrils. He had the biggest, maddest smile on his face.

All the remaining gangsters didn't seem to know what to do for a moment, but one stepped up and demanded to know who the fuck he was.

The baseball bat came up and rested against a shoulder. The smile didn't lessen at all as he plucked the cigarette from his lips and crushed it out on the ground with his heel. He looked up and said, "Does it matter? I'm the guy that's gonna crush all you pussies into paste."

That's all they needed. These retards had brains of cheese, I swear. All it took was one big fat rude mouth like Grimmjow's and they were on him like gay on Yumichika.

Again, though, it was different to last time. Grimmjow had the upper hand now because he wasn't 'working' or whatever he'd been doing then and he hadn't been chased through the streets for about ten minutes. Also, it seemed like he simply didn't give a shit whether he killed them or not. He aimed at their heads and necks with the bat, deadly accurate and never holding back, and soon enough they were dropping like flies left right and center. He counted, every time he got a hit.

"Hah! Three, four…five – shit, five! Five! C'mon, die already! Fuck there we go, five – six – oh my god, this is so fucking fun!"

He cackled. Lord, that laugh. That smile. It was insane. It gave me chills just looking at him. His teeth were surprisingly white despite his smoking, and they looked so sharp like they should've been in the mouth of a tiger rather than a human.

This wasn't the same Grimmjow I'd saved from dying. Not thin, not weak, and not going down without a fight. He was tall and strong and enjoying every moment of this bloodshed. He was almost _glowing_ with it.

It was almost over too fast. Eight of them, lying at his feet, blood spattered everywhere. I was seriously afraid for their lives, but Grimmjow didn't care in the least. He started bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, looking at the two guys who still held me, grin morphing wider and crazier with every second. His eyes shone unnaturally blue. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.

"Aw c'mon, c'mon, won't you assholes join in? Let's have a little fun here, eh? Whaddya say?" Grimmjow cooed, playful, dangerous. He was teetering violently between the two.

I could feel them shaking. Grimmjow cut a scary figure, grinning like that, covered in blood and waving that baseball bat around. He took a step forward and barely a second later one of the two guys had run off. The other held my arms tighter and forced my head back by jerking on my hair.

"Don't come any closer, I'm warning you!"

"Or what?" Grimmjow said, swinging the bat back and forth.

"Or I'll fucking kill him!" he shrieked, squeezing my neck hard between his hands. "I'll snap his scrawny little neck in half! I'm not kidding, I'll do it!"

He would. I could feel it. My head was already feeling fuzzy from lack of oxygen; he was choking me, slowly.

Grimmjow looked into my eyes. They were wide, desperate; I needed him to help me. I needed him to save me. I just needed him.

But the question was, did he care?

Something weird flashed in those beautiful blue eyes of his and he said, "Kurosaki. Duck."

I didn't need telling twice. I threw my upper body forward as hard as I possibly could, out of my captor's surprised grip, at the same time Grimmjow swung the bat right at me with all his strength.

It caught the guy exactly on the side of his head, a full heavy smack that I was sure would kill him. Unfortunately I didn't get out of the way in time either, and it clipped me hard enough to knock me out. All I remember was the pain, and falling forward into a pair of strong arms, and that was it.

_**

* * *

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.**_** ~ Emily Kimbrough**

* * *

When I came to I was lying on the ground, curled up in the recovery position. The concrete was cold and damp underneath me. My head hurt like Renji'd had a party in it. I opened my eyes, blinked, and groaned.

"Huh. Looks like the sleeping princess finally woke up."

Grimmjow. He was still there. So was I. What the hell?

There was something under my head, and something else covering me. A blanket?

No. A jacket, folded up to make a cushion. And a sweater on top of me to keep me warm.

His. Grimmjow's.

"God Kurosaki, what a buncha fail that was. I thought you said you could handle yourself?"

I tried to get up. The world spun around me.

"Don't go doing dumb shit like that, moron, keep it down." A hand laid itself on my head and none-too-gently shoved it down onto the makeshift pillow.

"Ow!"

"Stop bitching, I saved your pathetic ass."

"Grimmjow…" I cracked an eye open and squinted. "Grimmjow, where are we?"

I craned my neck, trying to see where he was. All I got was an eyeful of jean-clad thigh – he was sitting right there next to me, cross-legged and smoking again, looking for all the world like he'd just been a part of something no more violent than a tea party. The baseball bat lay on the floor, forgotten.

"We're still here," he answered me. "Didn't wanna go dragging your fat ass around half the town. Thought your head might fall off or somethin'."

"Aren't you cold?" I asked. He'd donated his warm clothes to keep me comfortable, and all he had on was a shirt and jeans. It wasn't a summer's night, that's all I'll say.

"Whaddya think I am, a kitten? I'll survive, you retard. Stop worrying about me and shut the fuck up."

"We need to call an ambulance for these guys."

"Why?" he asked, looking at me askance.

"I don't want them lying here all night! What if something happens?"

"Who gives a shit?"

"Grimmjow!"

"What? Why'd you care, anyway? There were about to beat your ass up!"

"That doesn't mean I want them bleeding to death! Come on." I put a hand on his knee. "Please."

He looked at me so darkly I took my hand away from him instantly. Then he sneered. "Fine, whatever. But you do it. I ain't gonna be no Mother Teresa for these asshats."

"That's fine. Look, we need to go – fuck, what time is it?"

"Dunno."

The sky was almost pitch black. Shit. "I need to get home!"

I tried struggling to my feet, but I almost fell flat on my face. Grimmjow sighed, pitying. He stubbed out his cigarette on the outstretched leg one of the men that had collapsed nearby, then he grabbed me under my arms and hauled me upright. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and I couldn't help noticing how broad and surprisingly muscled they were now. Damn, when had he gotten so ripped?

"Want me to carry you, princess?"

His voice was mocking and it made me grit my teeth. "Screw you, I can walk."

"Hah, sure. That'll gimme a laugh."

I pushed away from him and tried one step. Two. I stumbled. My head was throbbing and I crouched down on the ground, holding it in my hands.

"Oi, princess. C'mon."

A rough hand grabbed the back of my collar and yanked me up. Grimmjow had put his jacket and sweater back on, and he pulled one of my arms around his neck. I almost reeled away. "Grimmjow, what're you-"

"What, you wanna crawl your way back to the clinic?" he asked harshly.

I didn't answer, and he basically dragged me there. I could hardly keep up. I was a lot more beat than I'd thought.

Grimmjow's arm was warm around me. I shouldn't have felt this comfortable with him. I didn't know why I wasn't more disturbed by it, because really, only about two years ago we couldn't stand each other. I would've rather died than let him touch me. I would never have accepted his help, would never have let him clean the blood off my face or buy me replacement headphones, but he had.

I still remembered the feeling of him wiping that blood off me. How gentle he'd been. It had felt so weird and it was such a huge surprise, because at first I thought he was gonna hit me or something. But there had been nothing hard or malicious in those eyes when he touched me, and it was...well, it was...I dunno. Just...it was different. And it made me feel all...strange.

"Grimmjow."

"What."

"Thank you. For…you know." I cleared my throat, peeking at him from the corner of my eye.

He grunted. "Whatever. You save my ass, I save yours. I don't live indebted to anyone, so now we're even. Got it?"

"Yeah. But – I mean, how'd you know I was there?"

"I didn't," he said shortly. "I don't hang around the streets just looking for you, ya know. I was…out for a walk."

"So lucky coincidence, then."

"Pretty much."

The gravity of the situation hit me hard. Shit, if he hadn't been there, I might be _dead._ He'd pretty much saved me from being maimed for life. I opened my mouth to thank him again, but he didn't seem like he was in a gracious mood and would probably rub it in my face. Since there was only so much rudeness I could take from him, I decided to talk about something else.

"Where'd you get the bat?"

"Stole it from some kid," he said, glancing at me, teeth flashing in a wide grin.

"You're such a dick."

"Yeah but I'm the dick that just saved you, so shut your face."

There was no way I could argue with that. If I had he'd have probably left me stranded on the street, so I swallowed my pride and carried on walking. The air was chilly. His arm wasn't around me anymore, I could walk fine now, but he was still standing close, close enough that our shoulders were touching and I could smell his aftershave.

Wait. Aftershave? Grimmjow never wore-

"Kurosaki."

"What?"

"You smell weird. Like a girl. Or did you always use fruity shampoo?"

I knew I was blushing. "Like you can talk, I can smell you from a mile away! Anyway, it's the only shampoo we ever have. Yuzu buys it and I never remember to tell her not to."

"Can't you use your dad's?"

"Hah! You really want to visit the old man's bathroom after he's been in there, you be my guest."

"Please. The subject here is you using a girl's shampoo, not your dad's bathroom. I'm starting to think you're more of a faggot than I am."

"Think all you want, it might make your head explode and then maybe I'll be finally be rid of you- argh!" I swore as Grimmjow casually stuck his foot out and tripped me up.

"Oi, I'm injured here!" I punched his arm, but he just laughed.

"You shouldn't say hurtful things like that, Kurosaki," he said, smiling evilly. "Didn't anybody teach you that?"

"I think even my mother would allow me to make an exception in your case," I said, trying subtly to trip Grimmjow up in return. It sadly didn't work.

The atmosphere relaxed and we spent the rest of the journey home in easy silence, feet taking us where we needed to go with no direction from our brains. But I got home insanely late and my dad greeted me with a flying tackle, shouting at me for about a million years after I threw him off, telling me that he'd called me again and again and again, I'd missed dinner, Yuzu couldn't sleep because she was so worried, and so on so forth. The usual stuff.

But then he saw Grimmjow and I explained the situation (it was the usual – got beaten up, got over it, got home) and after that dad seemed OK. He looked me over, told me I was to stay home for the next few days, and offered Grimmjow a bed for the night. The asshole shrugged and agreed with hardly another word. I watched him as he went to the room everyone thought of as his, back straight and proud, not hunched over like it used to be. Grimmjow'd come a long way since that overdose. He was almost a whole new person.

I remember that night primarily because it was the first time I dreamed about him. Blue eyes and white teeth and red blood, mad smiles and the feeling of waking up with him sitting next to me; the smell of the cigarettes and his aftershave, his low voice and the warmth of his arm around my neck. That night I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when exactly the hatred between us had disappeared, and what it had turned into.


	14. like a body in a lake

**haunt** _verb_

1. to visit habitually or appear to frequently as a spirit or ghost: to haunt a house; to haunt a person.

2. to recur persistently to the consciousness of; remain with

3. to visit frequently; go to often

4. to frequent the company of; be often with

5. to disturb or distress; cause to have anxiety; trouble; worry

* * *

The morning after that fight, that was when the real surprise came about. A sleek grass-green car slid up to the front of the clinic and Grimmjow's dad stepped out. I'd gotten to see him a lot more since Nell had dragged us to Grimmjow's house nearly every week when she'd lived there, but she'd moved in with her mom recently, in an apartment on the other side of town, so I hadn't seen Grimmjow's house, or its owner, for a while. I liked Grimmjow's dad. He kind of had the air of a kicked puppy, and I felt sorry for him, since he had such a weird son and all. But they seemed to get along well, as far as I could see.

"Ah, good morning, Ichigo-san, it's wonderful to see you again!"

I'd just come down to the kitchen for breakfast. Everything still hurt and I'd only vaguely noticed that we had a guest, and then all of a sudden all I could see was a beaming Frenchman, who was hugging me tightly and _kissed me twice on each cheek._ I think the only word for my expression there would be _flabbergasted. _Yeah, I think that accurately sets the tone for the whole situation.

"How are you, Ichigo-san? Is school going well? I see your family's well – oh, you've grown since I saw you last, you must be as tall as my son now- and speak of the devil! Grimmjow!"

He started babbling in French. I was frozen. He was still hugging me. Grimmjow, just coming into the room, saw that too – he looked utterly horrified.

"Dad, _what _are you doing?"

"Eh? What do you mean?"

"Stop molesting people!" Grimmjow snapped, pulling me away from his dad. "This isn't Europe, you know! And what are you even doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, well," his dad sniffed, stepping back smartly. "Now that you mention it, I'm here to say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Yes, that's right. To the Kurosaki family, for taking such good care of my son all this while." He hesitated, and turned to my dad. "Also, I would like to show my gratitude…are you free this weekend, Isshin-san? I would like to invite you all to dinner, as a proper token of my appreciation. I don't know how or why my son has been taking advantage of your hospitality so often and for so long, but I will not stand for it, it is willful and insulting-"

"It's OK," I said quickly, noticing the scowl on Grimmjow's face darken. "I don't mind. I mean, Grimmjow's…he…he's helped me out a lot too."

Dad agreed. "I'm a doctor, I wouldn't be doing my job if I turned him away. And it's all part of being a community, isn't it? Helping each other out in times of need."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, while his father blinked owlishly behind those thick round glasses, then smiled. "Thank you Isshin-san. And you too, Ichigo-san. If only we had more people like you in the world. Ah…do you accept my offer of dinner?"

"We do!" dad said immediately, beaming. "Just tell us the time and place."

While Grimmjow complained under his breath behind me they arranged it for the following weekend, when dad had an evening free. I regretted the whole thing almost at once. What the hell was I supposed to wear to something like that? A shirt and jeans just wouldn't cut it, but it wasn't like I was going to a masked ball either. The dinner itself was in a week, so I still had time to ask Rukia for help, maybe – shit, no, I had a soccer match in the next couple of days, I needed to train for that. And then there was that goddamned Chemistry essay and the Biology report I had to finish, even though I wasn't going to school for a day or two because of my injuries.

In the end it turned out that I was too busy to be worried about what to wear and when the evening arrived I just threw on a pair of black, formal-looking jeans and a dark red dress shirt. Karin wore a hoodie, shorts and a baseball cap, completely unexcited; Yuzu was giddy beyond all reason and had chosen her outfit with the utmost of care. And dad…well, he…

God, I can't even-

"DAD? WHAT THE ACTUAL _FREAKING _HELL ARE YOU WEARING?"

He cowered as I yelled at him. "What? What's wrong with what papa's wearing?"

"What's _wrong? _What's wrong with a _purple silk tuxedo?_ The frilly shirt? The – _is that a top hat?"_

"It's classy!" he insisted, clutching the hat to his head. "We're going to a classy place! We need to dress accordingly!"

"You look ridiculous, like you dressed up as a goddamn pimp for Halloween!"

"I do not!"

"They'll burn you alive for looking like that!"

"No they won't!"

"Then _I'll _burn you alive for looking like that!"

"Yuzu-chaaan," he wailed, scuttling over to her. "Ichi-nii is being mean to papaaa…"

"Oh, Onii-chan…"

"Shut up," Karin grumbled, kicking dad. "We're gonna be late, stop your whining and hurry up."

"You're so mean to papa!"

"That's it!" I said. "I'm walking there, no way in hell I'm gonna be seen with you."

Karin jumped up. "Take me with you!"

Me and Karin made a quick getaway, almost running. Dad wailed behind us, and Yuzu just sighed, resigned and long-suffering as always. She had the patience of a saint. God bless you Yuzu, if you weren't there I would've killed dad years ago.

"He's such a moron!" I said, when we were out of the house. "What the fuck does is he on?" Then I realized I was in front of my baby sister. "Shit. I mean, darn. Sorry. Er…"

Karin grinned. "Ichi-nii, I hear you swearing all the time. It's fine. I swear too, you know."

I sniffed, going into Big Brother mode. "Huh. Well. As long as you don't do it in front of me. Or Yuzu, don't corrupt her."

"Whatever." She threw a wary look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. "Um. Ichi-nii?"

"Yeah?"

"I think dad's following us."

I looked behind us too, and saw a flash of purple. I grabbed Karin's hand. "Oh my god, run."

We broke into a sprint, running and running while we held hands, the wind whipping our hair and stinging our faces. She started laughing, and that set me off. We slowed down when we got a few blocks away, breathless with giggling and the exertion of running. Her hand slipped from mine, and I thought that it'd been so long since me and Karin had did this: just spend time with each other, playing video games or watching TV or annoying each other while Yuzu tried to cook. I used to help her with her Math homework all the time. And now she didn't need it anymore. It was kinda sad to think about, but the sadness turned into warmth when she turned her pretty face to me and smiled widely. I couldn't help but return it.

It was freezing cold outside, though, and pretty soon I was shivering, the adrenaline from the exercise wearing off, while Karin looked at me smugly. She was as warm as an oven under her layers and layers of winter clothes.

"You should have worn a proper jacket, at least," she said. "Why do you always go for expensive fashionable clothes are so completely useless in real life?"

"Shut up, this was expensive. I need to wear it sometime."

She looked over my designer jacket with critical eyes. I was pretty proud of it myself: it was simple brown leather with a really huge, intricate dragon embroidered on the back. It was really fucking thin, though, and I was freezing to death. All I was wearing was that, jeans and a shirt. As well as underwear and shoes and stuff, obviously.

I was so wrapped up in trying to keep myself warm I almost missed the scheming look that passed over my little sister's face.

"So are you friends?" she asked, her dark eyes shining with curiosity.

"Huh? What, me and Grimmjow?"

"Duh."

"We're…well, we're…look, it's kind of complicated."

"How?" She raised an eyebrow. "Then are you two dating or something?"

I thought I was going to have a heart attack. "What? _What?_ What gave you that idea!"

She sighed. "Jeez, Ichi-nii, chill. I just know he's gay-"

"How?"

"Nell told me," she said. "And he's been coming round so often and stuff lately, I thought it might've been more than that. You two seem close."

"We do?"

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't find anything to say. I honestly didn't know what I _could _say. What was he to me? It was so confusing. Sometimes I thought that I saw Grimmjow more than I saw any of my other friends, he just always seemed to be _there,_ like he was waiting for me. And when we weren't snapping at each other's heels we got along pretty well. He was more interesting than I thought he could be. His personality intrigued me, and I was getting deeper into the situation with every thought about him that passed my mind.

I thought about it all the way to Grimmjow's house, Karin glancing at me a few times with those wise eyes of hers. She was too sharp for her own good.

I didn't speak a word until we actually got to the house. I'd seen it dozens of times before so I wasn't impressed or intimidated by the place, unlike Karin (although she hid it well). I wasn't awed by the high-ceilinged rooms or the expensive artwork or the antique furniture, and I walked through it all with my usual scowl. But as soon as we bypassed the vast dining room, went into the kitchen and saw a small round table piled high with pasta and pizza and wine, my palms began to sweat. I didn't even know why. I wondered if Grimmjow was at home.

Grimmjow's dad had accompanied me and Karin there (dad and Yuzu arrived earlier since they'd taken the car, instead of stalking us there) and he said in an apologetic voice, "I'm sorry if you were expecting something more upscale, but I didn't want to make you feel uneasy. I know that Grimmjow doesn't like using the dining room." He laughed. "I understand why, you need to use loud-speakers in order to communicate with each other!"

I could tell that dad and Yuzu were kind of disappointed, that they'd _wanted _to be wined and dined like that, but me and Karin felt much more comfortable with pasta. I'd _seen_ some of the stuff Nell had sneaked out of the cupboards in this place, and it was enough to say that I never wanted to see anything like that on a plate in front of me ever again.

It was a lot more fun than I'd thought it would be, too. The food was delicious, the wine had been picked carefully (not that I particularly liked wine, but I could tell this shit was the good stuff) and Grimmjow's dad was a great host. We were shown around the house, and even though I knew it pretty well already it was cool to be told the actual history of this painting or that ancient vase instead of just being dragged off to the games room with Nell and everybody else.

And Grimmjow wasn't there. I was strangely happy about that. It was weird. Lately, every time I saw him, it was like snakes were twisting around in my stomach, my chest grew tight and I found myself saying the stupidest things. I didn't like it. I didn't like seeing Grimmjow, I didn't like thinking about him like I did, and I didn't like talking about him. Unfortunately, Grimmjow's dad did not realize this.

"So, Ichigo-san," he said casually, while we were walking around in the library. "I hear you and my son are quite good friends now, hmm?"

Oh _fuck,_ here we go again. "Um, I guess. I mean, we're not really…" I saw the look on his face. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"You don't sound sure about it, though. You never have. That time, after you saved him – at the hospital, you were also unsure."

"Er, well, it's just…we have, um, a history, you know? You do _know,_ right?"

"I'm afraid I do not."

I scratched my head. "Really? Well, this is gonna be kind of awkward…long story short, we went to the same elementary school and we didn't…we didn't like each other. We didn't get along. Um. There was a fight, when we were both nine…"

"Oh." His eyes widened. "Oh, I remember now! Yes, and Grimmjow was…he was expelled. Yes, I remember now. You…you were that other boy?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You were nine years old, you were only children. It's nothing to be sorry about, I'm sure you've cleared it up by now."

In the face of that naïve smile, I could only say lamely, "Yeah, sure."

"He's never had many friends," he said. "My son has always kept to himself, you see. I'm afraid that might be because of us – his mother and I. We were often…absent, when he was a child. He has no siblings. He wasn't allowed outside a lot of the time, and I think he was very lonely. I think he still is. The divorce was very hard on him. It was an extremely difficult time. I'm sure he's told you why."

I said nothing.

"That's why I'm glad Grimmjow finally has a friend, Ichigo-san. He needs someone like you. I've noticed he's a lot…happier these days."

"How can you tell?"

He chuckled, "I'm his father, I can always tell."

I cleared my throat, embarrassed. "I'm pretty sure it's not just 'cuz of me, you know…I…well-"

The door to the library opened and a blue head appeared. "Hey dad, I'm ba- argh."

It was Grimmjow. I felt that odd constriction in my chest again and scowled when we made eye contact. He returned it.

"The hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"Grimmjow, be polite to the guests," his father said.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Where were you?"

"Out."

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

He sighed and looked at me. "Are you like this with your father?"

"Um." I imagined my dad's unique brand of affection and my normal response to it. "Not really."

"See! Grimmjow, follow Ichigo-san's example, maybe that way you won't get so many detentions-"

They started arguing. I hung back, fiddling with the chain that hung from my belt then with the leather wrist band I wore. I didn't know why I felt so surprised at Grimmjow's sudden entrance – it was his _home,_ after all, it should have been expected, but I still found it a shock, to see him in his own world, in the place where he was probably most relaxed and…himself.

He stuck out like a sore thumb, really – scruffy and punkish against the glamor of this house – but he also seemed more laid-back than I'd ever seen him.

"Uh, maybe I should be going," I said, interrupting the argument between Grimmjow and his dad, who both looked at me like they'd forgotten I'd been there.

"Not at all!" Grimmjow's father said. "Son, show him around, would you?"

"What? But haven't you already-"

"Oh, I only gave him the tour of this floor. Take him upstairs, please."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes a little, but didn't complain. He didn't say anything to me, either, silent all the way up to the second floor. It felt a little strained. He didn't even look at me. It wasn't until he was giving me the tour (and I use that term loosely) that he spoke to me for the first time that day.

"This is a bathroom," he said, pointing. "Bedroom. Bathroom. Stairs. Ceiling. Wall. A door. Fascinating, right."

"I know this place already – hey, what's that?"

Grimmjow kicked the door closed quickly. "My room. Out of bounds. OK, so you know this place 'cuz of your little escapades with Nelliel and your other retarded friends, let's go down."

I was about to ask him what his problem was when I caught sight of a little side-door, which looked shabbier than the others – the paint was faded, and peeling at the corners. It was so out of place next to everything else, which was polished and shining, that I couldn't help being curious. "What about that little door there?"

"That's just the junk room," Grimmjow said, disinterested. "It's not that great."

"Oh. OK."

He sighed at the look on my face. "But yeah, fine, we can check it out."

We walked to it and he shook the handle until it opened, creaking and protesting all the way, into a long dark space filled with mysterious, intriguing shapes. Grimmjow flipped the switch and a naked bulb flickered, casting a dim light. I let out a low whistle.

"How many centuries' worth of crap have you got in here, then?" I asked, moving forward to inspect piles of so-called junk, examining relics and treasures that looked pretty cool, in my opinion.

"Some of this stuff is hundreds of years old. Don't go grabbing everything, dickwad, you might break something."

"I thought it was only junk."

"Yeah, but some of it is _valuable_ junk."

"Then it's not junk, is it?"

"Depends on your point of view," Grimmjow said, picking up a small, ornate mirror. "See this? Worth at least two hundred thousand yen. My grandmother's. But no one would want it because it's fucking ugly. And those swords over there? They're genuine fucking samurai swords. But what do people want with them? We got guns nowadays."

"No way those're real!" I said, picking my way through mountains of knick-knacks and picking up one of the swords Grimmjow had pointed out. I rubbed away a thick layer of dust and drew it from its sheath: the metal was blunt and dull, the threads on the hilt were worn and fraying, but it was beautiful in my eyes all the same. I wondered how much it was worth, and whether Grimmjow was lying to me. "Are you serious?"

"Yep."

"Fuck. Were your family made up of samurai or something?"

"Maybe." Grimmjow moved to join me. He seemed to become more enthusiastic as he went along, pointing out specific things and rambling about their origins and in short, how cool his family was, and by association how cool _he _was. We made a slow tour around the room; there were so many interesting things to be seen, touched, explored, that time just disappeared.

I would have had a pretty good time in that room, even on my own, but after about an hour I saw something that made my heart lurch, and I stilled.

"Grimmjow," I said slowly. "How long have you lived in this house?"

He thought about it. "It belonged to my dad's mom, she was the Japanese one. Um. So. A long time?"

"Did you live here when we…when we went to elementary together?"

"Yeah. Why?"

I said nothing; bent down and picked the shoes up – my hands were big enough now that one shoe fit comfortably in each hand.

I'd always had small feet, for a guy. Renji teased me about it mercilessly, Rangiku said that she'd lend me her shoes if I decided to cross-dress one day, and I was generally the butt of a shit-ton of jokes because of it. And these shoes…they had been the first pair I had ever really loved. I remembered going to the store with mom, seeing them, trying them on, how thrilled I was when she bought them for me; they had been a bright, cheerful red, and I'd taken so much care to make sure they had never gotten dirty.

But now the sheen had gone, they were dull and grimy and coated with ten kinds of filth. I could remember when they'd been stolen, and being depressed for weeks about it. I was seven years old.

And now they were back in my hands, after almost ten years.

There was more. More shoes, some jackets, a schoolbag, even a toy or two- fuck, they were all mine. They'd all been stolen from me during Those Three Years. I didn't remember each and every single one, but here they were, moldering under dust and mothballs in Grimmjow Jaegerjaques' fucking _junk room_ and goddammit if the memories didn't come back, sharp and acrid and like a punch to the stomach-

"Kurosaki?" Grimmjow came up to me, looked at me strangely. "What the fuck is that?"

My voice sounded cold, even to myself. "This is all mine."

"Yours? How can they be-"

"Or at least, they _were_ mine." I weighed the shoes in his hands. Then my lip twisted and I threw them back onto the ground. "But never mind. I don't want them back."

I turned and walked to the door; said, "Don't bother showing me out. I already know the way."

_**

* * *

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.**_** ~ Lao Tzu**

* * *

He left so suddenly I didn't have time to react. I raised an eyebrow and picked up the shoes he'd thrown away, and looked at the insides of the soles – come to think of it, they_ did_ look a little familiar…

Wait.

Wait.

Oh shit.

I remembered now. Shit shit shit.

This…this was all stuff taken from Kurosaki, during that time. It had all been taken on my orders, stuff I'd told other people to steal. And for all of it to surface now – god, my life had shitty timing.

_Fuck._

I went downstairs. Dad told me that Kurosaki'd left earlier than the rest of his family, had told them he'd walk home and take advantage of the mild weather, even though it was colder than the fucking Arctic. I stood beside dad as we both saw the three other members of the Kurosaki family pile into their car and head back home, something burning like fire in my stomach and in my chest.

What the hell was I gonna do with all of that stuff? I couldn't just leave it there, not in the house. In any other circumstance these fucking things wouldn't matter a bit – but now that I knew what they meant, now that they represented everything I wanted to forget, their existence would smolder and grow in my mind like an unstoppable cancer.

No. I couldn't keep them with me. It wouldn't feel right.

Fuck.

I kept hearing the ice in Kurosaki's voice, I kept seeing his face, seeing those fucking things back up in the room-

The two images connected. And it was only then that I realized what I needed to do.


	15. new directions

_When I was younger I saw my daddy cry  
And curse at the wind  
He broke his own heart and I watched  
As he tried to reassemble it_

_And my momma swore that  
She would never let herself forget  
And that was the day that I promised  
I'd never sing of love if it does not exist_

_But darling, you are the only exception_

_Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul  
That love never lasts  
And we've got to find other ways to make it alone  
Or keep a straight face_

_And I've always lived like this  
Keeping a comfortable distance  
And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with  
Loneliness  
'Cause none of it was worth the risk_

_You are the only exception,  
And I'm on my way to believing  
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing_

**The Only Exception ~ Paramore

* * *

**

"_Uh, Grimmjow, what are you doing?" _It was dad. He was speaking French, like he always did when he was feeling lazy.

I grunted and did the same. _"Cleaning."_

"_I can see that. But those shoes are far too small for you."_

"_I know."_

"_All of these things…these are for children. What's going on?"_

"_Found this sh- this stuff in the junk room. Thought I'd give it to…to someone."_

Dad just looked at me. _"Really."_

"_Yeah. Where's the iron?"_

"_What do you mean, where's the iron? You don't iron, Grimmjow."_

"_I do now. Where is it?"_

My dad just shook his head and walked away in a daze. I got back to work. This was too important to mess up.

_**

* * *

There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.**_** ~ Bryant H. McGill**

* * *

"Onii-chan, I think there's something outside for you."

I glanced up from my breakfast, one of my eyes glued shut and milk dribbling down my chin – it was too early in the morning for me to be fully functional, you see. "Huh? Whaddya mean, Yuzu?"

She looked perplexed and pointed in the direction of the clinic. "Well, there's a big cardboard box outside the door with your name on it."

I frowned a little and rubbed my eyes, wiped the milk away, got up and followed as she led me to the item in question. It was raining torrentially outside, and the box, the kind most people used when they were moving house, was a misshapen, soggy lump. I could see my name on it; the writing was huge and untidy, curling wildly and taking up the whole side. I knew it instantly – this was Grimmjow's doing.

My frown deepened and I was on the alert for something suspicious within moments. I took an umbrella and told Yuzu not to follow me in case stupid Grimmjow had planned a prank, and I went out into the rain and opened the box with the utmost fucking caution.

The red shoes were on top. They were tightly encased in plastic, as was everything else; there was a letter there too, in a little pocket of its own to the side. Everything, all of the clothes and shoes and toys, had been cleaned or polished or ironed and appeared to be as pristine as they'd been when I first got them, and were put into individual airtight plastic bags so they would stay clean. My mouth fell open a little, and my eyebrows were raised in disbelief. I stared.

What the fuck was this?

Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a flash of blue. But as hard and as long as I looked, it didn't come back.

"Onii-chan?" Yuzu called. "What is it?"

I almost jumped. "O-oh, nothing. Just…just lemme bring it in."

I didn't want to drag it inside, knowing it would fall apart. Instead I folded up the umbrella and hefted the heavy, cumbersome box inside and dumped it in the hallway. There, I showed Yuzu what was inside and she was as dumbstruck as I was, and a lot more excited.

"But this is so cool!" she cried. "Who did it? Do you know?"

I sighed, pretty sure that I sounded as uncomfortable as I felt. "No. But I'm probably not gonna keep all this."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Well, what would I do with it? This is all crap for little kids, Yuzu, not even you would fit into it."

That depressed her a little, if the way her shoulders slumped was any indication. "But you'll keep some of it, right? The stuff you like most?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"It's…it's just that…" She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "There's so little of anything that mom left behind. I think she had a big spring clean or something, before she died." Yuzu tried to smile. "And anyway, those red shoes are really cute."

I considered it, then smiled and ruffled her hair. She didn't protest like she usually did, but lunged forward and hugged me so tightly I couldn't really breathe. But I didn't mind.

We didn't do this a lot anymore; I didn't spend as much time with my family as I used to. I thought of the way Karin looked so pretty and grown-up, the way Yuzu was fast shooting up until she now reached my chest, and felt a lump in my throat. They were still only kids and they needed me.

And I needed them too. If it hadn't been for the thought of my sisters and what would happen to them after mom had died, I would have sunk into my despair and self-hatred much more deeply. They kept me sane. They still do.

I don't get all sappy and stuff very often, but it was never a sacrifice for Yuzu. I bent down and kissed the top of her head; murmured, "Yuzu, you know I love you, right?"

She gave a little muffled laughed and the grip went tighter. "I know. I love you too, Onii-chan."

Yuzu smelled of home: of the fruity shampoo we all used, of the rice boiled in the kitchen, of the strange musty scent the sofa had given off for years. I kissed her again, and held her, hating the feel of the apron against me. She was only thirteen, and already had a lifetime's experience of being a housewife.

_Life really isn't fucking fair,_ I thought,_ not even to the best of people._

An image of Grimmjow's face, his cocky smirk and his outrageous hair, flashed in my mind. I had to add, _And sometimes not even to the worst, either._

Almost immediately, a little voice in my head spoke up: _But is he really one of the worst? _

_Of course he is, _I replied. _He always has been and always will be._

_You know he's not,_ the voice said, _so don't even bother denying it._

I sniffed scornfully, and gave Yuzu one last squeeze, tickling her a little and making her squeal and wiggle away. I laughed as she stuck her tongue out at me and flitted through into the kitchen, where the rest of our obscenely lively family had gathered for breakfast.

_Don't try and distract yourself,_ the voice said. _He's apologized and everything. You shouldn't ignore it._

_Apologized? The fuck do you mean?_

_He gave you back all of the things he took from you then. It's his way of saying sorry, right?_

I swallowed and stared into space. It was an unbearable thought. Was that really what Grimmjow meant?

_There's only one way to find out, I think,_ the voice said. _Go read that letter he put in there._

_You can't _think,_ you're just a voice in my head,_ I replied snappishly. It sounded painfully stupid, even to me. I decided to stop debating with myself and just do it.

The box sat in the hall where it had been left, looking pathetic yet…defiant. Unavoidable. It had Grimmjow Jaegerjaques all over it, and was spreading a puddle of water on the floor, which was thankfully made of tile. But it irritated me anyway. Couldn't Grimmjow have chosen something waterproof? The dick was a nuisance even when he wasn't there.

The idea that this was Grimmjow's way of apologizing was laughable. I knew that the stupid idiot was far too proud to ever be able to even say the actual words out loud, why would he go through all of this trouble just for me? Ludicrous. _Insane._

I closed my eyes, not wanting to ponder it. I didn't want to dig up old painful memories, not again, and sift through them like someone looking for gold where there was none. The past was the past, and I didn't want to relive it.

_Go ahead, read the letter. You know you want to._

_Shut up, stupid voice._

But I couldn't resist. I grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. There was only one thin piece of paper inside, just a dozen-or-so words in Grimmjow's handwriting. They were:

_I'm no good with words, so I'll let this guy do the talking._

Then, a quote:

"_Action is eloquence.__"_

Shakespeare. It was Shakespeare.

How did he know I-

The thought made my stomach do a somersault. No, he couldn't. A fluke, it was just a fluke.

I was blushing. I never blushed. I ran a hand over my face, frowning, then went upstairs and shoved the letter into a drawer, hoping that it would just become another miscellaneous piece of junk that clogged up my life. But it never did.

I donated everything but the red shoes to some second-hand store in town. I didn't need any of it. I didn't even like looking at it, because then I thought of Grimmjow walking all the way to the clinic in the rain, carrying that box. And that muddled my head up.

I chose to forget. After a while it was pretty easy – finals were in a couple of months and soon there was nothing but pressure, yet again. Even Renji was feeling it, although it didn't stop him from walking into school with a pair of glasses and moustache drawn on his face with permanent marker. I took one look at him and couldn't stop laughing; I seriously thought I was going to die.

Afterwards I felt better – lighter – although sometimes I couldn't stop myself when I saw that blue hair in school, and the thought of the box and its contents just popped up in my head again. I didn't know why it made me feel so strange. But even though Grimmjow started preying on my mind more and more I always won in the end and pushed those thoughts away again, and once or twice I was even able to bitch about Rukia's new boyfriend with Renji.

Usually, though, after ten straight minutes of impassioned ranting, I lost interest.

"He's only with her for the money. I'm sure of it. She's always too generous to people she likes."

I didn't know what Rukia _he _was talking about.I nodded anyway, eyes glazed over. "Mmm."

"He doesn't care about her."

"Right."

"And why does she need a boyfriend anyway?" Renji demanded. "I thought she said she wasn't interested in that romantic-type shit!"

"She does it to make you jealous, and obviously it's working," I mumbled in a low voice.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Renji sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. It was free of its usual ponytail today, and was messy, but still as shiny and soft as ever; Renji took care of his looks, and his bright red hair especially. It showed. I could see girls glancing at my friend with new, interested eyes. I laughed under my breath at the thought of what it would do to Rukia.

"What's so funny?" Renji asked.

"Nothin'."

"Aw, come on Ichi-chan. You can tell me."

I shook my head, scrabbling for an excuse. "It's OK, just thinking of something…Grimmjow said."

A frown. "Jaegerjaques? The hell are you thinking about him for?"

"Oh…uh, just, well. He said something funny in History yesterday," I said quickly. At least I wasn't lying. Renji could always tell when I was lying.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Just stuff. You know. I can't remember all of it."

"He insulted Ms. Ochiwa, didn't he."

"Yeah."

"And you found it funny."

"Mm-hm."

Renji raised one eyebrow, the perfect image of scornful incredulity. I defended myself by saying, "Hey, look, she's so easy to rile up, OK? It's hard _not_ to make fun of her!"

"That's immature."

"Damn right it is, you do it all the time!"

"I just do it because she doesn't like me."

"She doesn't like you but she _hates _me. And_ I_ manage to control myself."

Renji pouted a little and looked at me with hooded eyes. "Oh, Ichi-chan, you're so tense today. Need to get some relaxation, Renji-style?"

"Not in class, Ren-chan, people are looking…."

"Let's give 'em a show."

"Ooh, Renji-"

"Ichigo-"

"Mmmm…"

And life went on.

* * *

**_I never think of the future - it comes soon enough._ ~ Albert Einstein**

* * *

We lounged on the grass outside at lunchtime, me snoozing with a hand thrown over my eyes, Renji staring contemplatively at the sky. He was chewing a piece of grass, probably hoping that it would give him the mysterious air of a poet or philosopher; I personally thought he looked mildly retarded more than anything else, and told him so. But he didn't get irritated, for some reason, and just frowned.

"Ichigo," he said. "This is almost the end of our second year of high school, right?"

"Yeah."

"After next year, when we leave, what do we do?"

I sat up, a little groggy and not quite understanding. "What do you mean? We go to college and become doctors or lawyers or whatever. We graduate and have successful lives and have families and pensions and go to Okinawa for vacation."

"But what if we don't?" There was something bizarre in Renji's eyes – something haunted, unsure.

"Then, well…" I thought about it. "I don't know. We just have to get along with what we've got, right?"

"But what about _us?"_

"Us?"

"Yeah, you know, you and me and Ishida and Ikkaku and Rukia…and everyone else. What'll happen to us?"

"I…I don't know. We'll stay friends. We've known each other most of our _lives,_ Renji, there's no way we're gonna forget each other just because we leave school. I mean, just think of all the weird stuff we've done together. The people you do that with…you can't leave them behind. You wouldn't _want _to."

He stayed silent, gazing at the sky with distant eyes. Then he said, "It's not nice out, today, is it."

"Yeah." I looked at him for a second, then smiled and ruffled his hair. "Don't you ever worry, Ren-chan, I'm always here. I, for one, will never forget you."

"Thanks, Ichigo." The reply was quiet and sincere.

"No problem."

There was a sigh, and Renji was Renji again, not some calm thoughtful stranger. "Man, I really hate Rukia's boyfriend."

"I got that."

"I bet he's an ass."

"You've never even met the guy, Renji. She might be making him up, for all you know."

"You think so?" he asked, brightening.

No, Rukia wasn't that desperate. But I said, "You should make an effort to be happy for her. Or pretend to, at least."

"Nah…" Renji said. "I…let's not talk about it anymore."

Thank god."Whatever you say."

He sighed gustily, falling back on the grass, arms crossed behind his head. "So…they're gonna start making us work on entrance exams soon, huh."

"Don't remind me."

"You brought it on yourself, _you're_ the one who decided on being a doctor."

"So did Ishida and you don't give him shit about it."

"Yeah, but he has no life outside of studying and Inoue, so he'll be OK."

"True."

Renji looked at me, his chin propped up on a fist. "Hey, why don't you come study business with me? We'd make a hell of a team. Sexiest salarymen ever."

"Tempting, but no," I said. "I can't see myself doing anything but medicine. I just can't."

"Was it your dad who persuaded you?"

"No, it's…nothing else interests me."

Renji shrugged. "Well, OK. It's up to you. I wish you luck with the endless stress."

"Thanks," I said. I looked at the sky – dull, grey, promising rain. "Renji, I'm going to the park after school. You wanna come?"

"I've got cleaning duty. I'll meet you there when I'm finished."

"Sure…"

It was a slow, lazy day; after school let out, I wandered over to the park that me and my friends went a lot when we were bored. It was just a field with a few benches and some swings, but we always made our own fun and I recalled some really crazy shit hitting off there. Usually they involved too much alcohol, a few fireworks and a stolen lighter, maybe a singed eyebrow or two (Renji still bore the scars from last time) and there was a corner of a picnic table that was a little more charred than it should have been, but what the hell - we were teenage boys, we were meant to be wild and out of control like that.

I went over to my favorite spot – a long bench placed under a tree that was in the perfect place to give a lot of shade on hot summer days. Today, since it was, like, late March there were no leaves and no sunshine. I sat down and pulled out my iPod, got ready to just sit and relax. But I was interrupted.

"Yo, Kurosaki."

Aw, fucking hell.

"Grimmjow, what are you doing here?"

He smirked ."Cutting class. Duh."

"School ended half an hour ago, dipshit," I said, unable to resist the temptation of trying to make him look stupid. But Grimmjow shrugged it off and continued to smile demonically, looking every bit like the maniac he was.

"What're you doing here?" he asked me. "Not hoping to molest little kids, are you?"

"What the fuck?" I yelled. "Of course not! Keep your sick twisted thoughts to yourself, asshole!"

"Jesus, calm down. Just a joke."

"It wasn't funny at all. Don't joke about shit like that."

He shrugged. "Sometimes the only way to get through something is to joke about it."

"Save your bullshit philosophy for later and go away."

White teeth flashed as his smirk widened. "Aw princess, is the cold making you cranky?"

"Fuck you. And stop calling me that."

"Maybe you should go on the swings," he suggested slyly, "since I hear that always cheers little kids right up."

"Get lost."

"You sure?" He moved forward until he wasn't even a foot away. I clenched my teeth, annoyed with his closeness, but didn't allow myself to lean away, even though the feel of his breath on my face made little flutters radiate through my chest.

Grimmjow just leered. "If you want, I'll push you."

"How about you just _get the hell away?_ I'm in no mood for this sort of shit."

"Definitely cranky. What's wrong, princess, did Abarai abandon you so he could stalk Kuchiki?"

I stood still, fists clenched, anger rolling from me in waves. I could not speak. A thousand words were tangled in my mind, I wanted to say all of them at once, demand Grimmjow what that fucking box had meant, why he had done it…and all that came out of my mouth was a small wheezing noise, exasperated, pleading, and even though I had no idea what the hell I had just said, Grimmjow looked like he did.

"Kurosaki," he said.

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck was with your dad's outfit that night?"

I sighed deeply. "Grimmjow, why do I need to explain? You knew he was batshit insane. It just takes getting used to."

Grimmjow chewed on his lip, avoiding my eyes. My dad wasn't what he really wanted to talk about, I could tell. If I hadn't known better, I would have said that he looked almost nervous.

"Did you, uh…did you get it?" he asked.

I knew what he was talking about. "Yeah. I…the letter…"

"I heard you liked him."

"Shakespeare?"

"Nelliel told me."

"Oh. Um. Well, th…thank you."

"I didn't remember that shit. Your stuff, I mean. I forgot about it, yeah? Just shoved it in a corner and..." He saw my unimpressed expression and coughed into his fist. "But it's not – what I mean is, well, you know…if you didn't get it, I'm so-"

"ICHIGO!"

I never learned what his next words were going to be, although I had a pretty good idea. At that moment, however, my thought process was cut off abruptly because something that felt a lot like a soccer ball hit my head very, very hard and knocked me to the ground. I'm not even kidding, if those things are kicked right they could punch a hole through steel.

I choked on an outraged shout, sprawled on the grass. I knew who was responsible for that – there was only one person in Karakura who could kick a soccer ball that accurately from just about fifty feet away. Not even Karin was that good.

"Ichigo!"

The yell had me blinking and looking up at Renji, who had appeared out of nowhere and was at the moment peering down at me, scratching his head and looking sheepish, if not apologetic.

"What the hell?" I croaked angrily. My head throbbed in pain. "Renji, what was that for?"

"Sorry, man," he said. "Didn't mean to hit you, er, that hard. Just wanted your attention."

"You sure got it. Help me up, idiot."

Renji held out a hand and hauled me to my feet, brushing the grass off my shoulder, the ball tucked under one of his arms. Grimmjow cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at the way Renji almost jumped in surprise, grinning when he sneered at him and said, "What the fuck are you doing here, Jaegerjaques?"

"What does it look like?" Grimmjow drawled mockingly. "I was about to go on the swings and Kurosaki here was gonna push me. But I guess that plan's gone to shit now that your ugly mug's shown up."

Renji narrowed his eyes. "Whatever."

Fuck, I didn't need a fight between the two of them, not now. I elbowed Renji to get his attention. "Hey, can I stay over at yours tonight? Yuzu's got friends over and they can't shut up, it'll keep me up all night."

"Sure, whatever."

"Aw, this is cute. Planning a date? Or something a little spicier?" said Grimmjow. There was a biting edge to his words, an undercurrent of something else – something bitter, almost envious.

"Shut up, Grimmjow," I said.

His smirk grew. "Oh, have I touched a nerve? And here I thought you didn't swing that way, _Ichigo."_

The way he said my name – it rubbed me the wrong way. I scowled fiercely, grabbing Renji's sleeve and pulling him along as I walked away, hands fisted.

"Ichigo, you OK?" he asked, once we were out of earshot.

I snarled, able to feel Grimmjow's intense, angry blue-eyed stare burning the back of my neck. "No, I'm not!"

"What was that about?"

"Him calling me-"

"No, not that. You were arguing before that."

"What?"

"Before you got hit by the ball," said Renji. "You and Jaegerjaques were arguing. Or it looked like that."

"Yeah, but how is that weird? We don't like each other."

"I'm not sure about that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Renji shrugged and said quietly, "You and him have been hanging out a lot more, y'know?"

"No, I don't know," I said, my voice forbidding. "What the hell do you mean _now?"_

"I've just noticed…you two talk a lot more than you used to. And no, you don't always argue, don't try that with me. Actually, most of the time, you seem pretty friendly with him." He paused. "And…well…"

"What now?"

Renji balked. "Nothing."

"Tell me."

"It's nothing, really-"

"Renji!"

"Fine, but you asked for it!" He sighed and scuffed his feet nervously. "Well, there's this…rumor…you know, stupid shit you hear at lunch and at the clubs-"

"Just get on with it, Renji." I had the feeling that whatever this was, I would not like it at all.

"Uh, OK, well…well, people have been saying that Grimmjow's, um, _interested._ In you. And that you've been, uh, returning this…interest…for the last few months now-"

I stopped dead in my tracks. _"What?"_

"Look, it's just a rumor-"

"They think I'm sleeping with him?"

"No one said anything about sex!" Renji snapped. "For fuck's sake Ichigo, what else are we supposed to think? You two were worst enemies a few years ago, now you're practically the only person he talks to in the whole of the school! He only comes into classes you two have together, too! Is it really so unbelievable?"

I stared him, disbelieving at first, then filled with fury. "Don't tell me you think that too!"

"I don't!" he said sharply. "I don't, 'cause I know you better than that. And if it was true you…you would've told us. Right?" He faltered towards the end, and ended up staring at the ground. Then he looked at me again. "You _would _have told us, wouldn't you?"

I was exasperated. "Trust me, there is _nothing_ between us. OK? Nothing romantic at all. We're just…just…"

"Just what?"

"I don't know. Friends, I guess." It was a struggle, to pin down exactly what was happening between me and Grimmjow. Was there a name for such an existence? A power struggle? A tentative reconciliation? Could it really be called friendship?

"Ichigo," said Renji, "the point isn't that something might be happening between you two. It's that you would tell us if something like that _did."_

I could see the lingering doubt in his eyes and sighed. "Yeah Ren-chan, of course I would. You know I can't keep shit like that a secret to myself."

"Good. Nice to know I haven't got any rivals, then." Renji grinned, and slung an arm around my neck.

"You'll always be number one."

"I should fucking think so."


	16. autumn leaves against a summer sky

**com·ple·ment** _noun_

1. something that completes, makes up a whole, or brings to perfection.

2. the quantity or number needed to make up a whole

3. either of two parts that complete the whole or mutually complete each other.

_4. music_ an interval that completes an octave when added to a given interval.

5. a complementary color.

* * *

_Chrysalis: First Act (High School)_

_Overture: Senior Year_

* * *

All I was doing was walking home. My eyes were staring straight ahead, my hands were in my pockets, and I was trying my best not to rip Nelliel's head right off, I really was. I can be the fucking poster-boy for restraint when it comes to Nelliel. _You_ try living with her for months and not wanting to commit some sort of genocide.

Thank god she'd moved out. Anymore of her irritating voice and those giant killer tits, and I really would've stuffed a pillow over her face while she was sleeping.

All right, maybe not. I'm not a coward, I woulda killed her while she was awake and at full strength.

Anyway. She was talking at me. I didn't listen and just let the words slide right off me. But it got to the point where I just had to interrupt.

"So tell me why you're stalking me again," I said.

Nelliel pouted. It wasn't cute. "I'm not stalking you, I'm walking right beside you."

"You're following me home and creeping me out, that's called stalking."

"Grimmjow, stop acting like such a child."

"Bite me."

She didn't even bother trying to get through to me, and just sighed and changed the subject. "I haven't seen your father in so long! How has he been?"

"Same as he always is."

"Be more specific."

"He's rediscovered his artistic side. Again. He tried to cook last night."

She was rightly horrified. "No! Don't tell me you _ate_ it!"

"Nelliel, would _you_ eat something that looked like it came out a horse's ass? Oh, wait-"

"Hey, shut up," she grumbled. "I didn't know it was cat food! Anyway, that's not the point. You cooked, right? What did you make?

"Bouillabaisse."

"…Bless you?"

Jesus, didn't she know _anything?_ "Fish soup. Comes from Marseille. You know, in France. You do _know _what France is, right?"

"Shut up. Is there any left over? I'm starving."

"Dad ate it all like the greedy shit he is," I said, bored. I scowled; there was a crowd of giggly middle-school girls in front of us. Fuck, these teenage whores were like a goddamn biblical plague. Why did they always clog up the road just when I needed to get home?

I thought about just shouting some insults and barging through them, but then I noticed that they were whispering to each other and glancing coyly at a figure in the distance; tall, muscled –

Ugh. Kurosaki.

Unfortunately, Nelliel saw him too. "Hey, it's Ichigo!"

"No shit."

"Let's bring him with us."

"Let's not."

She ignored me, of course, and surged forward through the gossiping schoolgirls only to leap at Kurosaki, catching him by the arm and hanging on like she was a fucking limpet. I rolled my eyes. It was weird, how she reverted into acting like such a child around him, clinging to him and squealing like a fucking five-year-old kid, even though she was a full grown woman with a steady job.

I hated seeing her do it. I hated seeing her with him. I hated seeing him with _any_ woman.

It was why I avoided talking to him now. I didn't look at him, I didn't want to go to school anymore, I just couldn't deal with it. These fucking feelings.

He was straight. Never gave off that vibe of liking guys in any way apart from a friendly way. Even that stupid fucking game he had with Abarai, you could tell they were both as straight as an arrow. So it would never ever work out, right?

Right.

But I tried not to be too obvious as I watched Nelliel and Kurosaki talk for a few more minutes, in any case. Nelliel had linked their arms and was snuggling up to him; he was smiling indulgently; she said something and rolled her eyes, and Kurosaki laughed. Sometimes his eyes crinkled at the corners if he smiled hard enough, but he never did it around me. And that pissed me off.

And the fact that it pissed me off pissed me off _again,_ because it was bad for my health to care. I should not care. He was straight. I was not. This stupid fucking thing would never fucking work out.

Get it figured out, Grimmjow. Get it through your fucking head.

It'll never happen.

Nelliel giggled loudly and pressed herself up against Kurosaki. Her giant tits almost engulfed his whole arm, and I saw his eyes move down and glance at them and god, I have never _ever_ wanted to murder someone more than I wanted to murder Nelliel at that moment.

I fell into fantasies of killing her. Ripping out her bowels while she was still alive and making her eat them. Tying her to a railroad and watching her get run over. Twisting her head around until her neck snapped and she was staring empty-eyed in the wrong direction.

It felt so damn good. The blood on my hands would be sticky and hot, and Kurosaki would never look at her again.

My mood lifted just a little but then it was all ruined by that smug bitch bouncing back after she and Kurosaki had waved goodbye. She was grinning like a retard, and said, "Change of plan! I'm going to Ichigo's house instead, please tell your dad that I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long, and that I can't stay over tonight."

"What a shame." I almost didn't hear her. Kurosaki was walking away down a side-street, towards his house, and he was frowning at his iPod. He was wearing the headphones I had bought for him.

Nelliel cleared her throat; when I looked at her, she was smiling like she was planning some really horrific prank and I had to stuff my fists into my pockets to stop myself from punching her face. "Well, not really. It'll just be me and him all night!"

What?

What the fuck was she talking about?

"What are you _on,_ Nelliel?"

She chuckled and I had never wanted to punch someone so badly. "Oh, it's nothing, really. I mean," There was a sly look in her eyes, "we've slept with each other before."

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

She did not just-

What the-

I thought I was going to be sick. _"What?"_

"Hey, not like that!" she said, brushing it off casually. "We've just slept in the same bed. He's so warm and cuddly! So nice to snuggle up to. Ah, but he drools if he sleeps with his mouth open, and sometimes he gets a little squirmy if he has a weird dream – which is pretty often, actually-"

"Nelliel." Oh god, what was this feeling? "Nelliel, that's fucking _wrong."_

"Why?" She was looking at me intently. "We're just friends, Grimmjow. Do you have a problem with that?"

I seriously thought I was gonna rip her head right off. "Yeah I do! You can't sleep in the same fucking bed as a guy friend when you're this age, it's really goddamn weird! There are no words to describe how _not fucking right_ it is!"

"You're getting very worked up about this," she observed. "I don't see why it's such a big deal, his sisters do it sometimes."

_I hate her I hate her I hate her. _"They're his sisters. It's not like he's gonna…_do _stuff with them."

"Ah, are you concerned for my virtue?" She grinned. "Don't worry, darling Grimmjow, it's quite intact."

"Fuck you. I don't give a shit about your fucking virtue. Don't sleep in the same bed as him!"

"I don't get why you're getting so insanely angry about this," she said. "Sado-kun and Ishida-kun are OK with it."

"Why?" I sneered. "Do they sleep with him too?"

She just looked at me for a long moment, then grinned smugly and looked ahead. "Ohhh, I see now. You're_ jealous."_

Oh, fuck. That was too far_. Too fucking far._

I grabbed the front of her shirt and shoved her against the wall, snarling. "Don't ever fucking say that, bitch. He's my…"

Shit, what the fuck was he?

Friend, enemy, rival - all of this and none of this.

Just, what the fuck.

"He's my…well, he's – just don't fucking go there. Don't say shit like that. Got that? Does that compute in your tiny fucking brain or do I have to beat it into you?"

I suppose I shouldn't have said that. Sometimes I forgot how strong she really was – it wasn't hard, seeing how most of the time she acted like a hyped-up child or a stuck-up prude. But in a split second, our positions were reversed and it was _my_ face that was pressed against hard cement, my arm bent behind me, Nelliel's knee sinking painfully into the small of my back. I did what I always did in a situation like that: I cursed and fought.

She twisted my arm till I thought she'd pull it right off, and said in a cold voice, "Grimmjow, I don't know who you think you are, but _don't ever speak to me like that again._ Do you hear me?"

"I'm not deaf," I spat. "Let me go!"

"Apologize."

"Blow me!"

The pressure on my arm doubled.

"Shit, fuck_, fine!_ Fucking hell, I'm sorry, OK?"

She released her hold on me and stepped back, picking up her handbag. I got up slowly, leaning against the wall for support as I flexed my arm. Fuck, I'd really forgotten how dangerous Nelliel could be when she was pissed. Stupid bitch.

Nelliel always managed to look down on me even when I was taller than she was. "Ready?"

"Fucking wait."

She sighed and tapped her foot impatiently. Just for that I made sure I slowed down to a snail's pace, enjoying the way she got so worked up. It was petty, but satisfying anyway.

When we were finally on our way again she said, "So I'll be going to Ichigo's about five or something, OK?"

"Tell that to someone who cares."

She obviously thought it was the perfect opening. "But you _do_ care."

"Like fuck I do."

"You do." She looked at me again. God, I hated her eyes. She thought she knew everything. She thought that she could just look at me and would be able to tell what's wrong. It really goddamn ticked me off.

"Grimmjow, you like Ichigo, don't you? As in, you _like_ him."

Ugh, this bitch. "Fuck you."

"It's no use denying it. I can see right through you."

Why hadn't I taken my iPod with me? Shit. I'd just have to do my best to ignore her and keep walking.

"Grimmjow, you know I'm right."

Haha, whatever.

"Grimmjow."

I didn't answer her.

"Grimmjow!"

She kicked me hard in the back of the knee, and Jesus _shit _it hurt like a motherfucker_._ I was swearing and hopping around for a minute or two while she just glared at me, frustrated and unimpressed by my colorful vocabulary.

I was ready to rip her intestines out her mouth and choke her with them but she dodged my attack and said, "Don't ignore me."

"You stupid cocksucking whore, I'm gonna _kill _you!"

"You don't hate Ichigo."

"Yeah I do!" I was really, _really _tired of this now. "He fucking infuriates me, the little dick, always so high and mighty. He's an arrogant, mouthy, rude, annoying little _shithead _and I just – argh!" Something cracked, and I stumbled, glaring at Nelliel. "Fuck, what the fuck did you do to my knee you bitch?"

"You're basically describing yourself, do you know that? And stop swearing so much!"

"He makes me feel sick."

"Ah, butterflies in the stomach right? That's because you like him."

I frowned. "Might just be indigestion though."

"You liiiike him," she sang.

"I think it's the indigestion."

She was mournful. "You're a total lost cause, Grimmjow. And it's not even funny anymore."

Whatever, bitch.

Like it was funny in the first place.

_**

* * *

A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love**_**. ~ Henri B. Stendhal**

* * *

So anyway, I got home and my dad was doing something in the kitchen, I didn't know what, I didn't care. I just went outside.

There was a porch swing in my backyard. The metal chains creaked and the wood was splintering underneath me and the thing was on its last legs, but it was relaxing, to just sit there and smoke and think about the world. The air was icy cold and gnawed at my ears that day, but I didn't notice at all; I was too busy thinking, staring at the sky. It was a clear, even blue, and the sun glared down at me even though it didn't have the decency to warm me up.

I watched the smoke curl from the tip of the cigarette and fade away in the cold air. There was a huge old maple tree growing close by and its branches rose high into the sky. The leaves were bright orange. I dunno why, it wasn't even fall or anything, it was April. Start of our third year of high school.

The blue of the sky and the orange of the leaves seemed…more _intense_ when they were next to each other. I noticed that. I remembered something dad had been babbling about one day during one of his 'creative' phases, something like color theory in art, something like the fact that blue and orange were meant to be complementary. Dad had said it meant that they made each other stand out, look brighter.

Something to tell Kurosaki, this whole orange-and-blue thing. The thought made me want to smile like someone wrong in the head. But that urge died when it really, really hit me that we were in our last year of school. The hairs at the back of my neck rose up and I took a deep drag of my cigarette, scowling at the tree.

Where had all the time gone? In just over a year we'd be kicked out of high school and forced into university and real life and responsibility. I'd be eighteen, stuffed into a tiny student apartment with lanky, pimply idiots who would inevitably want to change the world for the better, want to help people, want to make a difference.

Kurosaki was another one of those people. He said he wanted to be a doctor. A surgeon. It wasn't too hard to imagine, really, if I was honest with myself. I could see Kurosaki, an older Kurosaki, in a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck, long-fingered hands smoothly cutting and slicing with grace that seemed to come naturally.

Those fingers, they were so long, and I could just imagine them running all over me-

"Grimmjow!" dad bawled suddenly from inside, making me jump. "Grimmjow, come see this!"

I'd never been so thankful for his chronic attention-seeking. Stupid fucking Nelliel. Why the fuck did she have to say the words out loud? Why couldn't she just leave me the hell alone and stop picking at things that weren't her fucking business? Stupid nosy whore. So what if I liked him. She didn't have to go and make such a huge deal out of it. It wasn't like anything would happen.

I stubbed out the cigarette maybe a bit more harshly than I needed to. I didn't bother hiding the smell. Dad knew about it, and after that whole heroin-addiction thing cigarettes weren't really something he got worked up over. So I just walked into the house.

And I stopped dead.

"Dad. What. The hell. Are you doing."

He gestured with a paintbrush, smiling proudly. "Don't you think it's good? I just finished it!"

I stared at the paint-splattered canvas. It was completely incomprehensible.

"It looks like someone exploded over it," I said.

"Philistine. You don't appreciate a good painting when you see one!"

"I do. I'm just not seeing one."

"You don't recognize my talent."

"I recognize that your talent is not in producing good art. So yeah, you'd be right."

"Well," dad sniffed. "We'll just need a second opinion-"

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. He brightened perceptibly and trilled, "Right! I'll get it, don't worry – and don't touch anything!"

"Like I could make it any worse than it already is."

I was speaking to no one. Dad had disappeared to answer the door, so as per usual no one was there to witness my spectacular wit. It was a sad state of affairs.

"Ah, Ichigo-san, come in and see it! I need your opinion on this, Grimmjow is being entirely uncooperative."

All I need to hear is his name and I feel all weird. Then I see him, and it gets a thousand times worse.

When Kurosaki actually looked at the thing, he smiled.

"Hey, I like it," he said.

"See?" dad crowed with delight. "It's not like an explosion!"

"No, it is," Kurosaki said, making my smirk stretch wider and my dad deflate.

"It's almost like a…like a fire," Kurosaki continued, hand hovering inches away from the surface of the canvas, fingers outstretched. "Really…well…explosive. And it kind of looks like a face, right there."

I squinted. "Someone being burned alive?"

"Maybe." There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Nice. Hang it up in my room dad, I want that face popping out at me when I wake up in the middle of the night."

"You two don't understand my genius," he muttered sullenly.

There was an extremely strange, fleeting moment when Kurosaki's eyes met mine and some unknown feeling passed between us. Shared amusement, maybe. Camaraderie. He smiled at me, and heat just invaded every cell of my body.

I walked him out. He'd just dropped by to pick up something Nelliel had left behind. My heart was hammering. His hands kept brushing up against mine. Every glance we shared was charged; with what, I didn't want to name.

We were just at the door, he was just about to leave when he opened his mouth and-

"Complementary," I said.

"…Huh?"

I wanted to smack myself. Why was I such a retard? "I mean, orange and blue. They're complementary. Like. They make each other look better."

Kurosaki laughed. "I know that, idiot. Some of us actually go to school and learn things."

Well, fuck.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched the back of his head, looking at the floor.

"Oh, um, Grimmjow…I never asked before, but how's the whole, uh, heroin addiction thing going?" he asked. "It was a year ago, I know, but I never got around to asking how you were handling that. Maybe too late to ask, but I just…well…I was curious…"

"It fucking sucks," I said, growling and kicking the floor. "I was on it since I was twelve, you know, so it's really fucking hard. Sometimes I just wanna relapse and go back to doing that shit. Shooting up in back-alleys, cooking it up in my room."

"Don't give up," he said, giving me an encouraging smile that had my heart flip-flopping in my ribcage. "Nothing's impossible, you know? And in the meantime, if you ever feel like going back, just gimme a call and I'll talk you out of it or something. Don't want you to end up in hospital again."

He gave me another smile. Fuck. Why'd he have to say things like that? Why'd he have to be so goddamn _nice?_

"Oh, and that reminds me," he said. "I hope you enjoyed the cakes."

"The what?"

He blinked. "You know, the pineapple cake thingies I left you every day. Your dad said you'd like them. You _did_ like them, right?" He looked worried all of a sudden.

It was like the bottom of my stomach had dropped out. "Wait. Wait, back up. That was _you?"_

"Well, yeah. Who else, the Cake Fairy?"

"I…didn't know it was you."

"Your dad didn't tell you?"

"I never asked. I thought it was him who left them for me."

Kurosaki shook his head, grinning. "Nope, that was me. Went there every day. I didn't want to disturb you or anything so I only went when you were asleep. You did, uh, eat them, right? That wasn't just a greedy nurse stealing them or something?"

"Nope," I said, trying not to gawp at him. "I ate the whole thing. Every day."

He brightened. "You liked them, then?"

They were only my favorite food in the world, dickwad. "Yeah. I did."

"Good," he said. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "All right, I gotta get going. See you around, yeah?"

"Yeah…"

That was the moment. That was the_ exact_ moment – I can pinpoint it to there, watching him walk down the drive. He turned around at the end, waved at me and smiled. I raised a hand. I watched that spot long after he'd gone, just staring. And once again, everything changed.

Just as attraction had changed into a crush, now it changed into something more.

Something deeper.

Something that scared the shit out of me.

It left me feeling out of sorts and restless. I smoked more in those later days than I had in a long time, but in the end I just resigned myself to it. There was only so much denial I could put myself through. I'd been slogging through that river the best part of a year, and really, I was tired of it.

Nelliel was right. Stupid woman. I knew there'd been a reason why I avoided her. She knew exactly what button to press to get me pissed off the most. And she was never afraid to do exactly that. She wasn't afraid of me at all, not like most other people.

It was the same with my dad, too. He was never scared to say things he knew would irritate me.

Goddamn, I hated my family.


	17. axis

_They were sitting, they were sitting in the strawberry swing__  
And every moment was so precious  
They were sitting, they were talking in the strawberry swing  
And everybody was for fighting, wouldn't wanna waste a thing_

_I remember we were walking up to strawberry swing  
I can't wait 'til the morning, wouldn't wanna change a thing  
People moving all the time inside a perfect straight line  
Don't you wanna curve away?  
It's such it's such a perfect day, it's such a perfect day_

_Ah, now the sky could be blue, I don't mind  
Without you it's a waste of time  
Could be blue, I don't mind  
Without you it's a waste of time_

_The sky could be blue, could be gray  
Without you I just slide away  
The sky could be blue, I don't mind  
Without you it's a waste of time_

**_Strawberry Swing ~_ Coldplay

* * *

**

"Fuck, man, where did summer go?"

It was Renji who was complaining. It was always Renji who was complaining.

"It passed by fast, didn't it?" Rangiku agreed, fanning herself with her hand, "But I would definitely say that we made the most of it."

The rest of the group hummed in agreement. We were gathered by the river, just about a dozen of us: Me, Chad, Ishida, Rukia, Renji, all the friends I'd known from the age of nine or ten. We'd just been out drinking and lazing around, and then somehow found our way here.

It was the last evening of summer vacation, and we were back at school the next morning. Although technically the school year began and ended in April, I'd always personally thought that the end of summer was more fitting. It just seemed…better. Like, you didn't have to worry about exams or shit during your summer break. You could just relax and sit back and do nothing.

This summer had been particularly good – we'd all gone to Okinawa, with no parents and no adults, and spent two weeks practically living on the beach. I remember gigantic bonfires and barbecues, splitting watermelons and eating tons of shaved ice; I remember brightly-lit street festivals, fireworks; I remember hollowing out melons that had survived and poking eye-holes in them and wearing them as helmets as we engaged in battle-royale style wrestling matches – ah, even if I lived to be a thousand years old, it would not be a summer I'd ever forget.

But it probably wasn't something that would happen again. Yumichika and Ikkaku and Nell had graduated from high school, Rangiku had moved away and had a steady job, Shuuhei was studying Law at college – we were growing up and splitting apart, everyone I'd been friends with since I was a kid. Thinking about it upset me and I wondered what I would do, in little less than a year from now, when I would be leaving school: medicine was insanely competitive, after all. I could feel my palms break out in a sweat just thinking about it. There had been sleepless nights and loud arguments with dad, and I could honestly say that once or twice I'd felt like screaming and crying and giving up. But that wasn't me. I always tough it out. And anyway, if old goat-face could do it, so could I.

I intended to go back to school relaxed and refreshed, but, obviously, I still really dreaded the prospect of eternal preparation for university entrance exams. It was endless stress. I'd never had such little sleep before in my life.

So that night I just lay back and watched the sky, sipping my beer. People said their goodbyes and they left, and they always stopped to give me a hug (or slap my back like the manly men we were) and, for once, I didn't mind. I even hugged back. I relished it. I knew we wouldn't be able to do this again – Rangiku wouldn't be able to tease me about being a virgin, Ikkaku would be too far away to pick fights, me and Yumi couldn't obsess over shoes and clothes and the latest fashions (secretly, of course) - and it would be hard, to get used to them not being there.

It was too warm to worry for long, though. The sun's rays were like a blanket covering me in orange light. My head was on the grass, my eyes were closed, and I drifted from cloud to cloud, shadows flickering behind my eyelids. It would have been too easy to lie there and never get up again.

"Ichigo? You asleep?"

I blinked and opened my eyes, rubbing them with one hand and looking around, wondering when I'd dozed off. Dusk had fallen and the only people left on the riverbank now apart from me were Chad and Tatsuki.

"Hey, where'd everyone go?" I asked.

"It's late, stupid," Tatsuki said, rising to her feet. "And I gotta go too, or else mom will kill me. See you two at school, yeah?"

She grinned at us and stretched, then broke into a run and quickly vanished. I wondered at her energy, amazed that she could still be so full of it while I felt so sluggish.

"It's almost half ten, Ichigo," Chad said.

I knew what he meant and waved a hand. "It's all right, you should go home. I just wanna stay here a bit longer."

He stood up, flashing me a thumbs-up before walking away in that slow, thoughtful manner of his. I let my head fall back against the soft, springy grass and shut my eyes, happy to let the warm air just drift over my skin.

Then I heard footsteps coming closer and slit my eyes open, expecting to see Chad coming back. But instead, it was someone else.

"You shouldn't sleep in a place like this, princess, " Grimmjow said. "Don't know what kinda weirdos might be hangin' around."

I crossed my arms behind my head and shot him a lazy smile, ignoring the sudden sensation of butterflies in my stomach. "Like you, you mean?"

"Yeah, like me. What're you doin' here?"

"Mind my own business, that's all. Why?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "No reason. I was just…out and about. Saw you and-" He cleared his throat, looking away. "Well. Y'know."

I didn't know but said nothing more. I watched clouds passing overhead, aware of Grimmjow standing beside me, silent. This was so familiar. We'd been here before, this same spot, whiling away the hours. I looked at him. His face was shadowed and I couldn't read it.

"Grimmjow."

"What?"

"You gonna stand there or what? Sit down."

He looked briefly uncomfortable, then sat down beside my stretched-out legs. After sitting still for a few moments, he started pulling up handfuls of grass. The sound of it was irritating at first but I got used to it – soon the sound blended in with the chirping of the crickets, the smooth unhurried flow of the river, and the tranquil sound of trees rustling in the slight breeze.

He finally said something: "It's getting cold."

"Mmm. S'OK."

"Kurosaki, it's late."

"That's OK too. If you're scared of the dark you can just go home, y'know. Or do you want an escort?"

"Fuck you."

"Ooh, nice comeback. I've never heard_ that_ one before."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna waste my good insults on you, you ain't worth it."

"Lies. You just can't think of any."

"Yeah I can!"

"Oh yeah? Then go ahead," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"…You've put me on the spot now,"

I had to laugh. "Hah, see, you can't!"

"Shut the fuck up."

"_You_ shut up."

"Make me, bitch."

Somehow it escalated into a name-calling contest, which he won of course, because he had the dirtiest mouth I've ever had the bad luck to meet. But I don't take loss sitting down, so afterwards, some surprisingly good-natured tussling changed into an arm-wrestling competition. Both of us refused to admit defeat, leading to at least half a dozen matches and some pretty bruised egos.

"Fuck off!" Grimmjow exclaimed, after he lost, barely. "You were cheating, don't even deny it!"

"Hey, I can't help if you're as weak as a kitten," I said smugly. "Maybe you shouldn't spend so much time doing drugs and shit and work on those skinny little arms."

"I told you, I've been clean for more than a fucking year. And my arms aren't skinny, what are you talking about?" He flicked the end of my nose.

I batted the hand away and let my gaze slide over him. I couldn't help noting again that he_ did_ look a lot better, healthier and more fleshed out, instead of thin to the point of looking like a living skeleton; his hair was shiny, his eyes were bright, and his skin was a normal peachy tone, not dead white. He looked like the fit, handsome Grimmjow I was used to seeing from my childhood. It was a massive improvement.

He smiled wickedly. "Like what you see?"

I gaped, then turned red. "Sh-shut up! Just…you look different. From before, I mean."

"Oh yeah?"

"What I mean is, you look good. Healthy." I prodded his arm, unable to stop myself. "You been working out?"

Grimmjow smirked at me. "Oi, is that a pickup line?"

"Wh-what?"The blush came back, but stronger. "No! I…well…I just- argh, never mind."

He sniggered, enjoying my embarrassment. "Whatever, man. And to answer your question, yes I have. For a while now. I could probably whip your stupid ass in fight."

Well, naturally, that was a challenge. And I never backed down from a challenge. "Oh yeah?"

"That's right."

"So eager to lose?"

"Please, I could beat you with my eyes closed."

"Yeah, well, I could beat you with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back!"

"I could beat you with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back," Grimmjow retaliated.

"I could beat you with my _torso alone!"_

We paused for a moment, to let the stupidity sink in.

"What the fuck, Kurosaki."

"I don't know either."

"Did your mom drop you on your head when you were a kid or something?" Grimmjow asked.

"Shut up. Never mind," I said, face heating up. "Let's just fight."

_**

* * *

**__**He who has a ****why**** to live can bear almost any ****how**_**.**** ~ Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

We fought. It was depressingly short – because even though I'd been working out until I thought I would die, Kurosaki still had years and years of karate and soccer and basketball on him, as well as that stupid military school thing he used to go to. So of course I ended up with one of his knees wedged into the small of my back, my spine arching and both arms pinned behind me.

I was on my front and couldn't move, but I didn't really mind at all. I could feel the hard muscles of his thighs pressing against me, his hot breath brushing against the back of my neck, and I shuddered. Apparently, he was feeling feisty today.

I wondered if it was normal to be a little (or a lot) turned on by such violence.

"See," Kurosaki said. "I told you."

"I was holding back."

"Tch, keep telling yourself that."

He released me and moved away. I tried not to show that one of my arms had gone numb, immediately leaping on him and holding him down on the grass. There was a brief struggle, and then it was Kurosaki on his stomach, flailing under _my _arms.

"See?" I said, triumphant. "I wasn't lying."

Kurosaki squirmed. "Ack, OK, fine! My arm- ow!"

"That's what you get!" My arms held his straight down his sides, and one of my fingers accidentally brushed against a sliver of bare tanned skin that had been exposed. He made a choked sound and bucked away. I bit my lip and tried to control myself.

"What's up?" I asked, leaning down and breathing into his ear, loving the way his body shuddered so hard. "You ticklish?"

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly.

I grinned. "No?"

"No!"

"Huh…"

"Grimmjow, what- argh! No! Fuck, stop – ahahaha – gah, I'm, fuck, I'm gonna kill you hahaha-"

Kurosaki twisted and turned underneath me, spluttering with muffled laughter. Soon the struggling meant I fell over, he fell over, and then we went rolling down the hill that led to the river. We ended up sprawled over each other, out of breath and panting. I became very acutely aware of the fact that I was spread out on top of Kurosaki, who was on his back – our chests were pressed together, mouths inches apart, breath mingling. I panicked for a moment and tried to remember if I'd brushed my teeth that morning.

Then I noticed that Kurosaki had a tiny star-shaped freckle above his left eyebrow. And that there were flecks of gold in his brown eyes. And that it was pretty.

My heart started pounding so hard and fast I was sure he could feel it. Heat spread across my chest. Only one thought was going through my head.

_-kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him-_

I parted my lips slightly, and saw Kurosaki do the same. Those gold-speckled eyes were half-closed, like mine. I bent my head forward, angled it to the side, ready, eager, thanking god it was finally about to happen-

And then there was the sound of voices nearby, getting closer, and Kurosaki's pretty golden eyes widened and he jumped up, pushing me to the side. I landed on my ass, a little startled. And then pissed.

The voices turned out to be just a little kid getting a ball that had fallen too far. He ran down the hill and picked it up, running back to his parents without giving us a second look.

In the minute or so that followed, we didn't move. Everything sounded deafening, even the sound of my breathing. I could only stare ahead of me.

Fucking kid.

Fucking Kurosaki.

I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He swallowed nervously and cleared his throat. "S-sorry."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

How the hell could I have-

That brown-eyed gaze darted everywhere, and Kurosaki looked as though he was at a loss as to how to smooth over the situation. "Uh…uh…you wanna play a game?"

It was so out of the blue, so ridiculous a suggestion, that I couldn't help looking incredulous and saying, "What the…a _game?_ What are you _on?"_

"Just a suggestion, dickhead!" I noticed that whenever he didn't know what to do, he covered it up with anger. He covered up a lot of things with anger. Like it was some kind of shield. A lot like me, I suppose.

I plucked a cigarette from a half-empty pack and chewed on the end of it before lighting up, glaring at him all the while. "What kind of game?"

"Well…I dunno…'I spy'?"

"No." I blew out a plume of smoke, right into his face. His glare got more poisonous.

"Tic-tac-toe."

"Don't be fucking stupid, we don't have any paper."

"Hangman."

"What are you, ten? And we don't have _any paper!"_

"Then _you _suggest something!" Kurosaki snapped, scowl thunderous.

I smirked, thinking of something fun we could play. Fuck his response, I just needed to get this out of my system _somehow – _all I wanted to do was lunge at the moron and kiss him senseless. Obviously, though, that wasn't an option at the moment.

Ash fell from the cherry end of the cigarette as I thought. Smoke drifted away, caught by the breeze. I waited until it was finished, then I said, "OK, I got an idea."

"What is it?"

"Just a _game,_ Kurosaki. Dunno what it's called."

He frowned. "And what do you do?"

I looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "It's fun. I put my hand on your knee, and I ask you if you're nervous. If you say no, I move my hand up a little. I keep asking every time. You answer. And that's it."

Kurosaki scratched his head, his expression a little lost. "How does it end?"

"How do you think it ends?" I asked.

He blushed. "Until…your hand's…"

"Yeah." My eyes never left him. It was surprising, that he wasn't at all creeped out by the fact I wanted to slide my hand up his thigh. Huh.

Kurosaki looked at me, and it was very intense. "And…what if I'm not?"

"If you're not what?"

"Nervous."

Oh fuck. Totally the wrong time and place to get a hard-on. I just crossed my legs and hoped he didn't notice. "Dunno. Might just have to try and see what happens."

A beat.

"Word association game," Kurosaki muttered, looking away and turning even redder.

I almost had to physically smother my disappointment. "Huh. Fine."

"I'll start," said Kurosaki, casting his gaze around for inspiration. He caught sight of a cut on his hand. "OK, blood."

"Red."

He grimaced. "Strawberry."

"Delicious," I purred.

The blush, which had been fading, came back full force, and I got the feeling that he didn't know why. It was funny, but _annoying._

"So," said Kurosaki quickly, in a slightly strangled voice. "Last day of summer, huh?"

"Not really. It's almost eleven o' clock, in an hour it'll be a school day."

"Fuck, don't depress me like that." He sighed. "Did ya do anything nice?"

"Skiing."

Kurosaki perked up. "Skiing? Cool, I've never done that before. You went to the mountains?"

"If by mountains you meant the Swiss Alps, then yes, the mountains," I replied languidly.

"Oh, fuck you."

"Jealousy is dangerous, Kurosaki."

"You wish."

I could have kept on going, but he just grinned at me lazily and I found myself getting all tongue-tied and shit. How could he do this, play me like a fucking yo-yo? Up and down, up and down, again and again ad infinitum. One minute, he was all coy and flirty and the next he was pushing me away. I wished the shitbag'd make his mind up. Either he wanted me or he didn't. Which one was it?

Then I thought, _Maybe he doesn't _know_ what he wants. Since, you know, he's _straight.

Fuck my life.

I turned away from Kurosaki and watched the sky darken from a dirty orange to purple-blue, saw a few stars start twinkling in the sky like they were there only for us.

Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation but I started getting philosophical. It was strange, to think that it'd taken hundreds or thousands of years for that starlight to reach us. To think that those stars were millions of years old, that they would outlast each and every single human being on the planet. My life was nothing compared to that. The whole history of humankind was a blip.

I closed my eyes, not liking the feeling those thoughts produced in me, and decided to talk about something more boring, even though with every second I spent beside him I could feel the pit of my stomach clench tighter.

"So. Last year of school, huh," I said.

Kurosaki hummed in response.

"Hey, at least give me a real answer."

"Well, what do you want me to say? You stated something, I agreed with it. It's our last year of school. There's nothing we can do about it."

I grunted. "Whatever. Still gonna be a doctor?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Kurosaki opened his mouth to reply, then sighed thoughtfully. He finally admitted: "It makes sense."

"It makes sense?"

"Yeah. My dad, he put a shit-ton of money into the clinic, you know? Like, setting it up, getting all the equipment, everything. And…I just thought it would be better to be a doctor too, so I could…carry it on."

"That's it?" I asked. "That's the only reason?"

"No…well…it's interesting, medicine is. I think I'll like it."

"Why a surgeon?"

Kurosaki frowned at the stars. After a pause he said, "My dad can't do major surgery. It would be more useful if I could work there part-time or something. Do stuff he can't do."

"You know," I said. "It's OK to do what _you_ want, instead of just what your dad wants."

"It wasn't my dad who put me up to this," Kurosaki protested. "I want to do it, I do. I just…"

"If you could be anything you wanted, what would you be?"

The question surprised us both. Kurosaki crossed his arms behind his head and thought about it, then smiled and said, "I don't really know. But when I was little I wanted to be a Jedi. That or William Shakespeare."

"I wanted to be the Terminator."

"What the hell?" he laughed. "Some weird-ass kid you were."

"Like you can talk. Shakespeare?"

"Shut up, he was a fucking genius."

"He was shit."

That little comment made Kurosaki sit straight up. "Oh please, he had more talent in his left nipple than you do in your entire body!"

"The hell he did. Everything he wrote was a pile of crap."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Have you even read anything of his?"

"Of course I have. Who hasn't?"

"No!" Kurosaki insisted. "Like, have you really _read _anything? Did you just look at the words and move on?" He started getting worked up, standing and pacing back and forth, hands waving around wildly, "I mean, he knew what the hell he was doing. He could work in three or four meanings into one word, he knew how to write poetry, he knew how to write romance and tragedy and anger and _everything…_fuck, I can't even explain it, everything of his has _layers _to it, Grimmjow. Even the stupidest little sentences mean something important. And you don't get that nowadays…_"_

My eyes followed him fixedly. I'd never seen him this passionate.

"Huh," I said, starting to grin. "Cute. Looks like someone's got a little crush."

Kurosaki went red. "What? Shut up, I do not! I just appreciate _art,_ that's all. Unlike you, you Philistine!"

"Ooh, I've touched a nerve, I've touched a nerve – I've totally hit the nail on the fucking head, right Kurosaki?" Was it obvious that I was enjoying myself?

"You are not-"

"It's OK, I won't tell Abarai."

"Like he'd care, he's in love with Rukia-" He froze abruptly, horrified. He gazed wide-eyed at me. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"It's not like it's not completely obvious. Everyone knows. Even I do, and I hardly go to school."

Kurosaki sighed, shoulders sagging. "Oh man, it's too weird."

"What, them liking each other?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why?" I sat up and propped a chin up on a fist, eyes never leaving Kurosaki as he settled himself down on the grass beside me, close enough for me to smell him. Detergent from his clothes. Something like aftershave. That gay fruity smell from his hair. Fuck, I loved the smell of his hair.

"I don't know how to explain it," Kurosaki said. "Rukia…well…she was the first real friend I made at the Academy. It was just after my mom had died, and I was just minding my own business when some guy started picking on me. But I wasn't really in the mood to put up with it. We beat each other up and caused a lot of damage. Rukia, she was there, she saw everything and she defended me when I was pulled up in from of some of the teachers. That's how it started."

He paused for a second, chewing on his lip. "She…she's like a sister to me. We helped each other out a lot, and we got really close. She introduced Renji to me too, you know that?"

I hated any mention of that prick, so I just scowled.

"We really didn't like each other at first, actually," Kurosaki continued. "He said it was 'cause he was jealous, like I was taking Rukia away from him or something. They go way back. Like, they've known each other since they were born or something."

"So isn't them being into each other kinda like incest?"

"That's why it's weird," said Kurosaki. "But I always thought their relationship might be more than that. It's…it's hard to explain."

"Sounds like it."

"Yeah," Kurosaki said softly. He sounded a little sad. "I dunno how to deal with it, really. Inoue and Ishida, Renji and Rukia – even Nell has a boyfriend now, did you know that? So does Rangiku and Tatsuki and…it's like everyone's pairing off and finding people, and I'm just…there. Like, on the side."

He stared off into the distance, mouth curved down at the corners. I didn't want to open my mouth and reply, because what I might've said would've ruined me. I settled for looking back up at the sky. It was almost completely black.

"Grimmjow, what time is it?"

"Just about half eleven."

"Really? Crap, I have to go." Kurosaki stretched languorously, then stood up, yawning, and began to walk away. "Later."

"Kurosaki."

I didn't mean for my voice to sound so strained or urgent or whatever. I just needed to_ know_ if…

"What is it, Grimmjow?"

I just stared at him for a long moment, then scowled and turned away from him. "You…you and Abarai. Is there really…are you two really…?"

Kurosaki smiled at me. "Don't be a moron. Didn't we just discuss him and Rukia? It's just a joke."

"Right. So he's not-"

"No."

"And you're not-"

He looked away. "N-no."

"Right."

He'd hesitated. He'd stumbled over his words. It was something.

Not much, but it was something.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because…'cuz…" I scrambled for a reason. "Everyone at school thinks you are."

Kurosaki stuffed his hands in his pockets and just considered me for a second. "Even you?"

"I…well, yeah,"

"That was kind of the whole idea. It's just some fun, don't worry."

"'M not worried, dickhead," I snapped. It felt like my chest was burning. Jealousy was like fire. "It was just a question, OK."

"OK, fine, don't get your panties in a twist." Kurosaki glanced at the ground, looking a little awkward. "Uh, so, see you at school tomorrow?"

"Doubt it."

"Oh. OK."

"Might go to the clinic sometime, though."

"Planning to get beaten up?"

"It's not like I plan it."

"Right. Then…" Kurosaki scuffed his feet on the grass, mumbling. "Then, I suppose I'll see you around."

I refused to look at him. "Yeah."

And Kurosaki was gone and I was on my own, trying to calm down the furious pounding of my heart.

Stupid Nelliel. Stupid Kurosaki. Just as I thought my life was under control those two stepped in and messed it up.

At that moment I hated life. Me and Kurosaki were supposed to be rivals – we were meant to be competitors. But now? I didn't know. I didn't know anything about this fucking relationship.

I liked him. I couldn't deny that any longer. I liked him, and I thought maybe there was a chance he could like me too since he wasn't so touchy about what had happened when we'd been kids, not anymore. And he was almost friendly around me, almost laid-back and warm and it made me think, maybe, maybe, _maybe-_

Fuck. I didn't know. I didn't _know._ It was a clusterfuck of goddamn complications, the threads of my whole fucking life were tangled into a giant knot I couldn't undo, I had no idea what was going on anymore. Seeing Kurosaki at school had only made it worse, I knew that.

But I'd still gone anyway, once in a blue moon, even though I felt increasingly out of place. Everyone else was working flat out – it was all about getting into a good university, and supposedly everything else would just fall in place afterwards. All those idiots, they thought all you needed was a good education and your life was made. Delusional.

I was intelligent. I knew that. And I knew I'd wasted myself on Aizen but it was so hard to get out of that particular situation, so hard to escape from it, to run and hide and not be found.

I hadn't been avoiding Aizen, not exactly. I'd just been doing as I was told, not putting a toe out of line, finishing things off quickly and quietly without all the fuss I usually made.

He'd get suspicious, I knew that. He knew I liked fighting, liked violence, liked the adrenaline rush that came with putting your life on the line. So me being all meek and obedient like this would definitely raise some eyebrows.

I couldn't do it anymore, though. I couldn't just fucking waltz into a building and whip out a gun and put my life in danger just because I was angry or high or whatever. I had other things to think and care about now.

My only worry was, Aizen might ask questions. He might dig. And then he might find Kurosaki.

The very idea made my skin crawl.

Sometimes I just wanted to give up and go back and grovel at his feet. It would've made things a helluva lot easier, but I knew it'd never happen. I was Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, after all, and I groveled for fucking _no one. _Not even him. _Especially _not him. Who the fuck did he think he was, ruler of the goddamn universe?

Thinking about him made my head hurt. He made me mad. To think, I'd wasted my life, thrown it away on that fucking egotistical prick, being his bitch and not giving it a second thought.

To be fair, I'd been on drugs when I made that particular decision. But let's not even talk about that fucking situation. All the time, the money, the effort I'd wasted so far in my life. And what had I achieved? Fuck all, that's what.

But I didn't know what to do. I wanted to escape. I hated Aizen, I'd always hated him, but I didn't know where I could go, how I could leave him without him putting a price on my head and me ending up six feet under. I couldn't talk to dad about it. Not Nelliel. And I sure as hell refused to drag Kurosaki into the hellhole that was my working life, it was a surefire way for him to end up with a bull's-eye on his fucking forehead. And I wasn't sure if I could live with myself if he ended up hurt because of me.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that the walk home flashed by. My dad wasn't asleep when I came back. He should have been.

"Oi. What the hell's going on?"

I'd stepped through the front door, to find that my father was in the living room, sitting on the couch and talking to a very serious looking cop who was taking notes. As soon as he saw me dad's face sagged with relief and he shot up and ran to me, hugging me tightly.

"Ew dad, get off!" I fought him.

"Grimmjow, where have you been? It's so late!" he wailed, his body crushing my torso.

"I was out. You know. Socializing." I wriggled and pushed until he'd let go of me and massaged my arms. How the hell could one pathetic old man be so strong?

"This is no time for jokes! The house next door has been broken into, and they're asking us all if we saw anything!"

"Eh? Who's been broken into?" I looked at the cop. He set his mouth into a hard line.

"The Hotaru family, next door," he said. "Neighbors reported hearing a disturbance about three hours ago, at approximately half eight. The dog was barking. Several suspicious people were seen leaving the house, dressed in dark clothing, but none were apprehended. Someone, however, managed to take a picture. Do you recognize this man?"

He held out a photo to me. I examined it, my heart dropping, because I _did_ recognize them.

The image was fuzzed and blurry, and it'd been a while since I saw them last, but I have a good memory for faces and this ugly mug was one that stood out clearly in my mind, even though I hadn't paid much attention to him at the time. But how could I forget the guy who'd tried to smash Kurosaki's kneecap in?

_Not such a tough guy are ya now, huh?_

"I know who he is," I said, anger tightening inside me even at the memory of the words he'd said.

The cop's eyes widened. "You do?"

"Not a name." I waved a hand. "But he works for Inugumi Daichi. Or at least, he did."

"Inugumi Daichi? The mob boss? But he was-"

"Murdered, I know. And his son got everything. But this guy, he definitely worked for him, and probably works for Inugumi Junior. That's all I know."

"Is that it? Is that everything?" the cop asked, scribbling it all down on his notepad.

"Yeah."

"Well, thank you very much for your help, sir. If you have any more information, please don't hesitate to contact us." He bowed to us shortly and dad led him out. When he came back he said to me, "I won't ask how you knew that information."

"Good, 'cuz I wouldn't tell you anyway."

Dad just gazed at me, and the look in his eyes was so sorrowful it got me on edge.

"What?" I demanded. "Why're you looking at me like that, huh?"

"I'm your father, Grimmjow, and you should not speak to me like that again. But I'll let it pass. It's late, and you should be going to bed."

"What the fu-"

"No swearing!"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine! What the hell, dad? It's just midnight. I haven't been asleep at this time since I was ten."

"Nevertheless, you are going to bed now," he said firmly. "No sulking, now. You're not a child anymore."

"Dad!"

"And no whining! Go go go!" He pushed me up the stairs and basically shoved me into my room. I stood there, not knowing what to do with myself. I mean, it was midnight. What the fuck. Only four year olds were asleep right now.

My jaw cracked as I yawned. I sat down on my bed and a wave of fatigue passed over me. OK, maybe I was a little more tired than I thought. But I couldn't go to sleep yet. There was still some serious shit to mull over.

This break-in. That man, from before. He worked for the Inugumi family, I knew he did. The family Aizen had bought that tape from.

It was so tempting, to play it. To find out what the fuss was about. Because they were looking for that stupid thing, and I had a feeling they were searching for _me. _They'd just gotten the wrong house.

The situation made more sense now. I'd taken the tape and lied about it. The Inugumi family knew, and they were looking for me. One of the guys from the first fight had remembered Kurosaki and his orange hair; maybe they thought _he'd_ stolen it. I bet that was why they'd attacked him in the first place.

Ah, but then I came along and saved his ass, and blue hair replaced orange as the primary target. All the pieces fitted together.

Shit, how long ago had that first fight been anyway? Like, months and months ago.

What retards. It had taken them _this _long to find me, and they didn't even get the right fucking house? How many people in Karakura had blue hair in any case? God, what amazing investigation skills. Not.

Incompetent idiots. If they were all this stupid I could sleep a little easier tonight-

Shit.

Wait.

Kurosaki.

Without even thinking about it I grabbed my phone and called the clinic. It rang once, twice, three times before someone picked up, but it wasn't who I was looking for.

"_Hello?"_

It was Karin. As soon as I heard her voice I felt stupid. Why had I called? Shit. Fuck.

"Er…"

"_Oh, hey. Grimmjow, right?"_

"Uh. Yeah."

"_You want Ichi-nii?"_

I coughed. "Yeah, I do."

She sniggered. _"All right, I'll get him."_ I heard her put her hand over the mouthpiece and yell for him. Some muffled shouting and then-

"_Hey, Grimmjow." _It was him._  
_

"Um. Hi." My heart started beating double-time. Why the fuck had I called. Why. Shit. I felt so fucking retarded.

"_Something wrong? It's kinda late."_

"No. Er. Yeah. You been broken into?"

"…_What?"_

"Like, your house. Has it been broken into?"

"_No,"_ he said slowly._ "Nothing's happened here."_

"Oh. Yeah. OK. Just, well, 'cuz it seems to be happening a lot. Around here, I mean. So…"

"_So…?"_

"So it might happen to you too. Be careful, right?" I said quickly, then hung up. I put my phone on my desk and sat on my bed. I almost jumped out my skin when my phone started ringing again.

It was Kurosaki.

"_Grimmjow."_ He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" I was not amused.

"_You want my cell phone number? If you call the clinic all the time, you're only gonna get my dad or my sisters. And that's just not cool."_

His cell phone number? Like, the cell phone he would put into his jean pocket and it would be all warm from his body and right next to his thigh and I would call him and it would vibrate, right against his thigh-

"_Grimmjow…? You still there?"_

"Yes! Yes." I cleared my throat. "I mean, yeah, OK. Whatever."

"_OK then, I'll text you."_

"But you don't have my number."

A pause. _"Yes I do. I'm calling it right now."_

I couldn't even open my mouth to speak, I was so embarrassed. My fucking father had infected me with his retardation. All the snappy comebacks just _died._

"_Look Grimmjow, I have to hang up to text you, yeah?"_

"Mmph."

"_Cool, bye."_

The dial tone rang in my ears. I put the phone down on my desk again.

Well, that was abrupt and not humiliating at all.

And I totally did not just sit on my bed and wait for him to text me, because that's fucking stupid and girly and I would never _ever _do something like that. I'm not Nelliel. I have testicles, for fuck's sake. Well maybe she did too, but I sure as fuck didn't want to check.

As soon as my phone beeped I grabbed it and opened the message. It was from a number I didn't recognize, and all it said was,

_Yo. Don't get too worried, if anyone tried to break into my house, they'd get a face-full of my dad and no one wants that. He's better than a guard dog. Later. :D_

Kurosaki used grammar. And correct spelling. In his texts.

What a fucking nerd.

The phone beeped again, as soon as I'd saved him as a contact.

Another message from him.

_Oh, and nighty night. ;) You shouldn't stay up this late, growing boys need their sleep. Go to bed already!_

For once, I listened to him. I stripped down to my boxers and put a ratty old shirt on, and I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling for hours and hours. I could feel Kurosaki's low, laughing voice whispering in my ears, his mint-scented breath against the back of my neck, the muscles of his thighs. His hands on my dick instead of mine. His tongue and his lips, hot and wet against me, oh fuck-

When I came my eyes were squeezed shut and my back was arched and I was gasping.

It left me feeling like a wet noodle. I hardly had the energy to clean myself off.

All I wanted was Kurosaki.

But I didn't have him, and I probably never would.


	18. green as grass

_I wasn't jealous before we met__  
Now every woman I see is a potential threat  
And I'm possessive, it isn't nice  
You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice_

_But now it isn't true, now everything is new  
And all I've learned has overturned, I beg of you_

_Don't go wasting your emotion  
Lay all your love on me_

_It was like shooting a sitting duck  
A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck  
I still don't know what you've done with me  
A grown-up man should never fall so easily_

_I feel a kind of fear when I don't have you near  
Unsatisfied, I skip my pride, I beg you dear_

_Don't go wasting your emotion  
Lay all your love on me  
Don't go sharing your devotion  
Lay all your love on me_

_I've had a few little love affairs  
They didn't last very long and they've been pretty scarce  
I used to think that was sensible  
It makes the truth even more incomprehensible_

_'Cause everything is new, yeah and everything is you  
And all I've learned has overturned, what can I do?_

_Don't go wasting your emotion  
Lay all your love on me  
Don't go sharing your devotion  
Lay all your love on me_  
**  
_Lay All Your Love On Me _~ ABBA

* * *

**

"Why did you do it in the first place?" Kurosaki asked.

We were by the river again. It was after school and we'd bumped into each other at the exact spot we'd been hanging around weeks ago, on the last evening of summer vacation.

It wasn't really a coincidence. I knew he liked to loiter around in that particular place, for some reason. I'd seen him there a few nights, just sitting with his friends or on his own, lying on the grass and staring at the sky, arms crossed behind his head and looking more peaceful than I'd ever seen him before.

"What do you mean, why did I do it?" I said.

"Joining Aizen. You hate the bastard. Knowing him has only fucked your life up."

I stared into the endless perfect blue of the sky. There were no clouds. I wondered, if I could fall into the sky, and keep falling, would Kurosaki follow me?

Probably not.

"That's a long story, Kurosaki."

"I'm not going anywhere for a while."

My lip curled. "Fine. Abridged version, my mom left my dad and me when I was eleven and moved to Germany. My dad and I went to Tokyo. I…then I realized…"

"You were gay."

"Yeah."

"How did you know?"

"Well, it's not easy to ignore the fact that you're in…that you like your math teacher _that way,_ especially if they're a guy."

"I thought it would be a little more complicated than that."

"It was. When my mom left it was…" I cut myself off, gritting my teeth. "It was hard. I didn't have…like, anyone to talk to, or any of that shit. No one would've wanted to talk to me anyway. I was a total little asshole then."

"You still are."

"Yeah I know. Shut up and let me finish, would ya?"

He grinned. "OK, carry on, how did your math teacher come into this?"

I rolled a cigarette between my fingers, frowning at it. "He was…he was nice. He wasn't sucking up to me just because my parents were rich or anything, he said he really wanted to help me. And I believed him. He wasn't- he wasn't lying to me. He was always supportive. It was the first time I ever…it was the first time someone treated me like that. Like a normal kid going through a hard time."

I lit the cigarette and took a deep drag, sighing. "So, in the end, my feelings…I felt so wrong. Confused. Like, I was a freak. And…I fell in with a bad crowd. Shit like that. And then…"

"Then?" Kurosaki cocked his head.

"I can't exactly remember how, but I met him going home one day. Some of the guys were with me, the gangster type boys. I just felt mad, insanely mad, because I thought it was his fault, you know? Like, he was the one who made me feel so…so wrong and unnatural. I…he ended up in hospital. I can't remember how bad it was. But it was pretty bad."

He looked at me soberly. "You beat him up?"

"Yeah."

"I guess it's understandable," he said slowly. "Your parents weren't there. It must've been hard. And…Aizen…"

"He was- he was just there, in the shadows," I said. "I'd heard about him, from Nnoitra."

"Who?"

"Nnoitra Jiruga. Tall gangly asshole, ugly as shit and with an attitude to match. He was one of Aizen's guys. And Aizen was…he was so powerful, you can't even imagine it. And I was young and it was easy for him to get me to look up to him. He knew who I was. Who my parents were. I thought he could help me, sort of – ah, fuck, it's hard to explain. It's complicated."

"No," said Kurosaki. "I understand."

I glanced at him. We were lying down side by side, and the bright sunlight sharpened everything into almost abnormal focus. Kurosaki's face, his orange hair – I could see it more clearly than anything else. He was staring at the sky through half-closed eyes, drowsy and carefree. His hair was a little longer than it had been, and flopped over his forehead. A small sigh escaped his lips.

I wondered what that sigh would sound like under me.

I closed my eyes. Dangerous thoughts.

"Grimmjow."

"Hmm."

"That night…" He scratched his head, clearing his throat. "When you were…at the club, or whatever it was. When that guy kissed you. In first year."

I narrowed my eyes. "What about it?"

"You were never a prostitute, were you?"

"No. Never."

Kurosaki looked at me with big, sorrowful eyes that made my heart skip a beat. "I'm sorry I said all that stuff then. I was…I was drunk. And I…I hadn't gotten over that stuff from elementary. But I have now."

I remembered. The apology. He had said sorry to me before, in the ambulance, when he had saved me. He had held my hand and didn't let go for a second, looked into my eyes and smiled and said he was there. That he was there and I would be fine, like the two things were related.

Somehow, I think they were.

I shrugged, crushing the urge to pounce and kiss him there and then. I scowled as hard as I could. "It was two years ago, asshole. I've forgotten it."

He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on my face must've stopped him. He frowned and his hands swept through the grass. Then-

"Grimmjow, why did you start it?"

The sky was so blue, a perfect, clear, cloudless blue. It was glorious. The air was thick and stuffy, the promise of summer just hanging out of my reach. I wanted to go to the beach, I wanted to play in the sea and go to street festivals and eat takoyaki and watermelon and watch the fireworks. But it all seemed so far away. _Breathe in, breathe out. Close your eyes. You can feel the sun._

"Start what?"

"That thing. When we were kids."

Well. That was not an easy question to answer. "Don't pretend you don't know."

"Mother issues?"

"Among other things."

"Ah. Just that?"

"We were six years old. Doesn't take a lot."

"I guess. Grimmjow?"

"What?"

"Do you still hate me?"

I opened my mouth. Hesitated. Then said casually. "No. I…you're OK. Still annoying, but that's not something you can help, yeah?"

"Aw, screw you," Kurosaki laughed, smacking me on the arm half-heartedly. It made me feel…triumphant. Triumphant, because I'd finally made him smile like Abarai did.

"Hey, wanna hear a joke?" I said, stubbing out the cigarette on the grass and throwing the butt away. Kurosaki frowned at my show of littering but shrugged anyway.

"Yeah, OK."

"How'd you know if a Frenchman's been in your back yard?"

"I dunno, how?"

"Your trashcans are empty and your dog is pregnant."

Kurosaki stared at me for a split second, and then shook his head. "Oh my god, Grimmjow, that's not even funny!"

"Then why're you laughing?"

"I'm not!" he protested, clearly laughing.

"Yeah you are," I said, smirking.

"What would your dad say?"

"He's the one who told me it."

"Oh lord."

"I got tons more. Mostly Jew jokes."

"Grimmjow!"

"What? My dad told me all of them and he's half-Jewish, so shut your face."

"He is?"

"Yeah, his dad was a French Jew. So that makes it OK, see?"

"It totally doesn't. I can't believe I'm hearing this," Kurosaki groaned. "Ugh. Right, fine, go ahead."

I sat up, cracking my knuckles and grinning in anticipation. "All right, why do Jews have such big noses?"

"I don't know, why?"

"Because the air is free."

He closed his eyes, and held his head in his hands.

"How many Jews can you fit in a car?"

"Dunno."

"Two in the trunk, five in the seats, and twenty in the ash-tray."

"Oh my god."

I grinned wider. "Stop laughing and I'll stop telling them."

Kurosaki tried in vain to hide his embarrassed smile. "Man, I can't _believe _you. You are such an ass."

"What's the difference between pizzas and Jews?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Pizzas don't scream in the oven."

"Holy shit!" Kurosaki covered my mouth with a hand. "OK, shut up now!"

His skin was warm. I didn't want him to stop touching me, but I peeled his hand off anyway. "They're funny, don't even deny it."

He shook his head in disbelief, a hand running through his hair. "Grimmjow, don't ever tell those to me again. Seriously, I might be tempted to repeat them."

His eyes met mine, and we grinned at each other. For a moment I almost wished I was a girl, just so I had a chance-

Every time I thought about it my stomach twisted sickeningly. This was one subject I couldn't bear thinking about. It made me angry beyond belief, angry and resentful and helpless. No. I wouldn't think about it.

It was masochistic of me, to keep on meeting up with Kurosaki like this. Once a week, sometimes twice – we whiled away an hour or two or three just talking (I don't even remember what about. Everything. Nothing) and every time, it got worse, the mess of feelings inside me became ever more chaotic. I looked forward to seeing Kurosaki's face and I dreaded it. I hated Kurosaki for making me feel like I did – like I was an eleven year old kid again, going into Math class, hoping to see that kind, gentle face.

But this time it was worse. Much, more worse.

I could have controlled myself this time. I could have stopped it, could have stopped going to that little spot by the river, could have ignored Kurosaki's existence and never seen his face ever again-

But he was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I wasn't going to lose that, not for anything. Not even if it meant putting up with this torture.

Even now, I don't know why I didn't just _tell _him. If it'd been anyone else I was attracted to I woulda just gone up and grabbed their collar and asked them if they were gay. If they were, I told them I wanted to have sex. If not, I backed off - unless I thought I had a chance.

I say and do whatever the fuck I want to, and if people didn't like it they could fuck off and die. I'm not the type of guy who cares what other people think or say about me, see.

Once, a guy called me a faggot in front of me. I punched him right in the face, and I broke his fucking jaw. And then I laid into him and made sure he'd never be calling _anyone_ a faggot again.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't kill him. I was close, but I do have _some_ self-control, you know?

Just a few broken bones. Some bruises. Nothing a big strong manly man like him couldn't handle.

And I have to say, I enjoyed it. Seeing the shock in his eyes when he learned that a disgusting little queer like me could actually take care of themselves, could fight back, didn't care about getting their hands dirty.

I did that to everyone who deserved it. I said a lotta shit, I gave my opinion whether anyone cared about it or not, I drank and I fought and I was rude and pissed a lot of people off. And I never let _anything _stand in the way of what I wanted.

But for some reason, Kurosaki was different. Every time I came close to telling him, things would shut down. Like my brain. I was always skittering away from actually_ saying_ the words out loud, confessing, because I was about ninety-seven percent sure he didn't feel the same way.

The other three percent. Well. It wasn't anything to get excited over.

No one likes rejection. Not even me. I was thick-skinned when it came to shit like that, true, and usually I wouldn't care if someone I kinda wanted to have sex with said no to me, but the annoying thing with Kurosaki is, it wasn't just about sex. For once.

I actually_ liked_ him. As in, him as a person. Not as something just to play with and fuck and leave. And it was a new feeling for me. Really new. I didn't know how to deal with it. So I kept it clammed up, never told a soul, strangled it, choked it. Tried not to feel what I felt.

But when that didn't work I just jerked off in the shower with pictures of him in my head.

Don't look at me like that, every guy does it. I just happened to do it about_ another_ guy.

It would end, I told myself – Kurosaki was leaving for Tokyo at the end of the year for medical school, and I would probably never see him again. Would never have to put up with his cockiness, his rudeness, his arrogance. I would get depressed about it sometimes, chain-smoke in my room and shout at my dad and throw things out the window, holing myself up in my room and wallowing in self-pity.

But then my natural aggression would start showing its head and I started to think, fucking hell, what was this? What the fucking fuck was this? Was I turning into Nelliel? A fucking stupid sappy lovesick teenage girl?

Fuck that. I didn't do that shit.

The bizarre regret always turned into rage when I got too mopey, and I always started thanking God that Kurosaki was leaving. The stupid asshole was warping me into something I didn't want to be, something I couldn't stand turning into. After graduation I would never see him again and that would be a good thing.

Thinking about him like that- fuck, who cared? I told myself I didn't need him. I could survive easily without him. My life was better without him. I was best on my own. In this life, you had no one but yourself.

Those were the thoughts that crowded my mind when I was alone. They were sensible thoughts, and they told me that the safest path was to ignore Kurosaki's existence and forget that he had even happened to me. And that was obviously what I should do.

And then I saw that orange hair, that scowling face, and all I could think about then was a way to somehow beat him at arm-wrestling, or to make him laugh, or just keep his attention on me. Us. Because then, that was all that mattered. To make Kurosaki _see_ me.

I practically never went to school. I spoke to no one but Kurosaki and no one but Kurosaki spoke to me. Not even his friends spared me a word. They always gave me these _looks,_ like I was some kind of leper.

But it wasn't like I cared. I didn't give a shit as to whether they liked me or not, I hated them all. Especially Abarai.

I'd never liked him. Never. First, it had been because he was just plain annoying, but then –

Then, it was –

OK, to put it bluntly, I was just jealous.

Insanely jealous, plain and simple. I hated the way he and Kurosaki were so close, I hated the way he made Kurosaki laugh, I hated the way they were able to hug and touch and tackle each other playfully without anyone caring or giving it a second thought. I just _hated_ it.

There was so much hatred I couldn't stand it. That and the lust – it overfilled me, every time I looked at Kurosaki those two things were all I could feel. It was absolutely fucking ridiculous. I was in so deep, I hadn't even began to realize how bad I had it until…

Until, every time I went to a bar or a club, I was looking for orange hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Tanned. Any guy who had 'em, I would close my eyes and pretend it was _him._

I can't even start to count the amount of times I woke up disappointed in the morning. And it only got worse every time I saw Kurosaki, saw the real thing right there in front of my eyes, something I wanted so much and couldn't have.

But I put up with it, you know? 'Cause I'm kind of a masochist like that. I even went to school for him.

And then I'd see Abarai, too close to him. Smiling with him at some dumb joke.

More hate.

More meaningless sex.

More lust for the real thing.

A vicious circle.

_**

* * *

Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly. **_**~ Proverb**

* * *

But let's stop that. Let's stop moping, 'cuz I might be good at moping but I'm better at being smug.

And I was smug because if I really thought about it, I guess I had my moments. We were getting closer, neither of us could deny it, and I know that there were just a few seconds where he thought about me, more than anything else. I can prove it, too – I know that sometimes I was at the forefront of his mind.

That was why it didn't die, that was why I kept _hoping._

Once he came over to my house, completely unannounced. Maybe it was just about the middle of fall or something, completely fucking freezing, and we weren't expecting any visitors. I opened the door, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off - and there he was. I think we were both as surprised as each other.

"Uh," he said. "Hi."

Me: "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Wrong thing to say by far. He recoiled, and I regretted opening my mouth at all.

"Oh. Um, well, I…I dunno." Kurosaki moved back a step, looking startled. "Just, actually – actually, I'll just go-"

Of all people it was my stupid dad who salvaged the situation. He suddenly popped up behind me, scaring the shit out of Kurosaki it seemed, and started beaming and squawking and babbling in French, like he always did when he wanted to mortify me. He was always over the moon to see Kurosaki too, seeing as he'd saved my life and all. Sometimes I thought he might have loved – might have _liked_ Kurosaki more than I did.

"Ichigo-san! What a surprise, what a pleasure! Come in, come in please! How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you," said Kurosaki, smiling a little. He came through the door and took his shoes off, not meeting my eyes once, and my dad grabbed his arm and whisked him off to see yet another atrocious so-called work of art. I just stood at the door feeling like the biggest fucking moron in the world.

'_What the fuck are you doing here?'_

Who fucking says that?

"Grimmjow?"

"What is it dad?" I wasn't in the best of moods and snapped at him, but he just grinned back at me, dimpling.

"I invited Ichigo-san over for dinner."

Shit.

"I said I'd give him some of that cassoulet you made. I told him you were a real whizz in the kitchen, you know, and he can't wait!"

Double shit.

"Dad, I hate you, you know that?"

He giggled and disappeared. I wasn't even kidding, I really hated that man. He didn't even let me skip it out, the bastard, he found me holed up in my room and dragged me downstairs to the kitchen, threw me down onto a chair opposite Kurosaki and would've locked the fucking door behind him as he pranced out if he hadn't known I would kill him for it.

So I sat there silently at first. Kurosaki was eating some French food that dad liked. Cassoulet – slow-cooked bean stew with some meat in it, so I didn't have any, just peeled an orange and ate that. I was just about halfway through it when Kurosaki decided to start up a conversation.

"I didn't know you could cook."

"There're a lot of things you still don't know about me."

That provoked a pause – he looked thoughtful, and a little troubled. "Yeah. That's true."

He still wouldn't look me in the eye. It annoyed me, and I flicked a bit of orange peel at him. "Hey, why're you here anyway?"

The question made him turn red and avoid my gaze even more. "I told you, I don't know. I was just…bored."

"Bored?"

"Yeah." He was embarrassed – I could tell because he kept scratching his head. "Uh, there was this party at Renji's place and everyone was drunk and so high they were making out with the furniture and shit and I…um, well, I was kinda tired of that."

I cocked an eyebrow. "So you came here instead?"

"Obviously."

"You didn't go home and play video games or whatever. You came over here?"

I'd never seen him so red. "Shut up."

I did shut up, too. Because I was so surprised. He'd come to _me,_ instead of staying with Abarai and his other friends – you can't expect me _not_ to savor the moment.

"So," I said finally. "You like it?"

"The food?"

"No, the interior design. Of course the food."

He smiled a little and looked at me for the first time that night. "Yeah, it's really good."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Well, it's not something I expected from you."

I shrugged it off. "I've been cooking for years. Ever since…ever since my mom left with the cook we used to hire."

"Left with the cook? What does that mean?"

Fuck, I hadn't told him? "Yeah. She…my mom had been cheating on my dad with the cook, for like, three years. They moved to Germany together." I gave him a strained smile. "Random, huh? Of all people, the cook."

His eyes went very wide. "Shit, I didn't know. I'm so sorry. That's-"

"Not your fault. You finished?"

"Yeah, that was…it was really good. Thanks." He stood up and I put the dirty plate and cutlery in the sink. Then, we stood around for a second or two in the otherwise empty kitchen, the silence between us growing more and more uncomfortable.

"OK," I said. "What do ya wanna do now?"

"Ah…" _That _stumped him. "I hadn't really…planned ahead. Um. Movie?"

I had to grin. "Kind of like a date, then, ain't it? Dinner and a movie. Should've done it the other way round."

I was only fooling around but he went very, very white. Then red. He swallowed, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the movement of his throat. And then that led my gaze to wander down – he was wearing a purple striped dress shirt with the top few buttons undone and I could see his collarbone and some of his chest. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing his arms, and he was wearing patched, ragged-looking jeans. His socks had little pigs on them.

"Nice outfit, Kurosaki. I like the socks."

It broke the ice, at least, and he grinned at me. "Thanks. Present from my dad."

"Present? What for?"

"I had my eighteenth in July," he said. "Sorry I didn't tell you, I was in Okinawa with the others."

His birthday? I missed his birthday?

Fuck. Fuuuuck.

"Actually…I can't believe that I don't know this, but when's your birthday?" he asked, sliding his hands in his pockets and leaning back in a position that was practically begging me to strip him off and fuck him against the table. Understandably, I had to think a little to answer his question.

"Uh, it's…it's the sixth of June."

He looked a little disappointed. "Oh, so I missed it? Shame. Because I saw something I thought would be perfect for you in Okinawa."

Just the fact that he had thought of me was enough to make my insides squirm a little. Fuck, I was so sad.

"Yeah? What was it?"

Kurosaki grinned widely, pulled something out of his pocket and threw it at me. "Well, why don't you open that and see?"

I tried to say something. I couldn't, though, because for some reason my throat had closed up so I just ended up glancing at him, then ripping open the little package he'd given me.

It was about the size of my fist, a little rectangular cardboard box wrapped up neatly in expensive looking paper. What I pulled out of it was covered in bubble-wrap and I tore it off, then let it just sit in my palm and stared.

"Like it?" asked Kurosaki. He seemed a little nervous.

It fit perfectly in my hand, a little glass sculpture of a cat. Not a housecat, though. The glass had been blackened and if you didn't look at it properly it was just a dark blob, but I knew what it was. Sleek, elegant, deadly – that was how I'd described it. A glass panther, curled up into a ball, the glass cool and smooth against my skin. The first birthday present someone outside of my family had given to me in almost ten years.

Kurosaki scratched his head again, smiling awkwardly. "Um, it was inspired by that…you know, when we were talking about what animal we would be. It was months and months ago, so maybe, like, maybe you don't remember it but I saw this and I thought you would appreciate the joke. Um, it's kinda stupid, but, uh, do you – do you like it?"

I blinked, then looked at him. I still couldn't talk for a second, but then I tried to smile and said. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

There must've been something in my expression that communicated more than my words, because he relaxed and his smile became a lot brighter.

"Cool," he said. "So, let's go watch that movie, yeah?


	19. smoke made with the fume of sighs

_My father is a doctor  
He never told me  
About this problem  
That I've got_

_I've never had it  
It feels awful  
it must be something  
that I caught_

_I can't breathe, I can't eat  
I hallucinate in my sleep  
I get a fever whenever you're near  
Oh God it's suddenly clear_

_Ooh struck down by the plague of love  
Sweet poison running through my blood  
And I can't bear not knowing if you even care._

_Now I can't get out of bed  
I've got this crazy notion in my head  
I hear a ghost in my bedroom lurking  
Is it me or is the medicine working?_

_Maybe nothing can save me  
So come a little closer  
I've got a secret just for you_

_Ooh struck down by the plague of love  
Struck down by the plague of love  
Struck down by the plague of love_

_**Plague of Love ~**_** Katie Melua

* * *

**

_So, it all started after I wore a pair of bright red five-inch high heeled shoes to school._

_Yeah, you heard that right._

_May I add that my legs looked damn hot too. Even Renji said so. He said that if he hadn't known it was me he would've jumped me on the spot. In retrospect I guess I'm glad that he did know it was me._

_I don't know why I did it. I think I just saw a pair of mom's expensive old designer shoes lying in her wardrobe, and they looked so sad and unloved I thought, 'Fuck it, why not'. So, yeah, I wore them to school. And yes, I have the same size feet as my mother._

_By then, I didn't care about my reputation anymore. Renji had infected me with his crazy. It was before summer, maybe about April or May, I was in my last year of high school, and I had bigger things to worry about. _Way _bigger things. University entrance exams. Med school exams. My crazy stupid dad, the fact that my sisters had started dating. The fact that I would be leaving all my friends in less than a year. Life._

_And Grimmjow too, naturally._

_We started bumping into each other more and more. Clichéd sort of meetings, really. Most of the time, though, I was actually looking for him – and not for a fight. Just because I wanted to see him. I liked talking to him, listening to his opinions on whatever, hearing his outrageous jokes and seeing layer after layer being peeled off and revealing someone I'd never thought I'd know. It was so refreshing, being around him. He was so unapologetic and brash and un-politically correct, it was like a breath of fresh air blasting through my stressful life._

_And I liked to look at him, too. He was handsome; I could admit that to myself. His face was interesting, his thin lips were mobile and expressive, his eyes were just…indescribable. He was a beautiful person, on the outside at least. I kept seeing flashes of him after he'd overdosed in freshman year, white and thin and impossible to tell apart from a skeleton, and I couldn't even begin to compare that Grimmjow to the one I knew now._

_The things I started feeling about him, I buried. The serial blushing, the twisting of my insides whenever I saw him, the way we would share little inside jokes that no one would get; it was dangerous territory. _

_I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't really know what I was happening to me_ _– I tried to suppress it. Forget about what I was feeling. Because yeah, I was all right with _other _people being gay. I had no problem with that. But it's always different when it's _you,_ right? _

_And I'm not like a robot, you know, so it was really hard, and I really liked him. I started liking him far, far too much. He was just…he was just himself, that was all he had to be. No airs, no graces, no façades. I liked him for who he was._

_Everything else, everything that had happened in the past, it was all water under the bridge now. In his own way he had apologized for everything he'd done wrong, and that was why I was able to forgive him. That was why I was able to let it go. It was the same for me: everything bad I'd said, done, thought - I told him about it and he brushed it off like it was nothing. Like he couldn't even remember anything I was talking about, but I know he just didn't care about it anymore because it didn't mean anything._

_Grimmjow seems like he's a bit simple-minded sometimes, but really it's all a front. He's capable of a lot more than he looks. He can be intelligent, resourceful, charming, witty; he can be everything, but he hides it. Not only because he doesn't care about grades and shit, but also to make people underestimate him. To make people think he's stupid, two-dimensional, just a rough-mannered delinquent. _

_And I felt proud then, to have seen so much more to him. I still do. _

_It was hard to admit it to myself, if I have to be honest. I'm ashamed to say it took a little bit of time before I could even _think_ it without feeling embarrassed. In the end though, I managed to get over it and I'd just told him about my real feelings, had worked up the courage to admit it, but by then it was too late and he'd-_

_Fuck, wait, I've gotten really off-topic. Where was I?_

_Ah, the shoes. OK, it started with the shoes. And then me and Grimmjow, we were just hanging out by the river for the first time, because I'd been chilling out there after school let out and he'd just happened to come along and see me. We were just talking. Well, really, he was making fun of me.  
_

"_What the fuck was that about, Kurosaki?"_

_I laughed at him and dangled the now-infamous stilettos from my fingers. "They're actually really comfortable. Wanna try?"_

"_No way in hell," he snorted. "And you only thought they're comfortable because your feet were numb. I bet they cut off all the circulation to your lower legs. And your brain too, maybe."_

"_You're just jealous because your feet are too big. I bet you're dying to give 'em a try." I sprawled out on the grass next to him._

"_You shove those things in my face one more time and I swear to god I'll throw them in the river." _

"_You're such a poophead."_

_He laughed in disdain and kicked me. "Whatever. Gimme some of your water, I'm thirsty."_

"_Buttface."_

"_Kurosaki."_

"_You know you want toooo…" I sang, smirking at him._

"_Oh my god," he said. "You really are the craziest fucking idiot I've ever met, do you know that?"_

"_I bet you can't lick your own elbow."_

"…_What? What has that got to do with-"_

"_It's a scientific fact, no one can lick their own elbow. Not even you."_

_This seemed to be a personal insult to Grimmjow. Just appeal to his pride and you've got him wrapped around your finger; I knew that well. "Bullshit!"_

"_Go on, then," I challenged. "Do it and prove me wrong."_

_He just stared at me, completely incredulous. "You have seriously lost your mind. I am not even kidding."_

"_So you can't do it."_

"_I didn't say that."_

_I crossed my arms. "Well, whatever. You can't. It's impossible."_

"_How did we even get onto this?"_

"_I tried but I couldn't."_

"_It's not impossible, Kurosaki."_

"_It is! Try it!"_

_He tried. Let me just say that the image of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques trying to lick his own elbow is something I will have engraved onto my memory for the rest of time, and I don't regret it a bit. It always sends me into fits of laughter, and it never fails to piss him off._

"_Fuck," he said at last, forcibly trying to shove his elbow into his face, snarling. "I'll get it, you'll see."_

"_Unless you cut your own arm off you won't."_

"_Nothing's impossible," he said stubbornly. "One day I'll prove you wrong, dickhead."_

_I couldn't help being smug. "Aha, sure. I hate to say it but…I told ya so."_

"_I cannot believe you're gonna be a doctor. I wouldn't want you anywhere near me."_

"_Why not? I'd be awesome."_

"_Your stupidity might be infectious."_

"_If it was then you should've caught some already, right?" I asked. "Anyway, you're always making fun of me for wanting to be something well-paid and respected worldwide, and that's pretty fucking stupid of you considering your little friend Aizen. Are you gonna stay with him the rest of your life, then?"_

"_Fuck no," he sneered. "I'd be dead in less than a few years if I wanted to be an honest-to-god hardcore criminal like that."_

"_Aren't you already?"_

"_I'm not a criminal," he said to me, smirking. "Just on a moral see-saw for the time being."_

"_I'd say you're more than that," I said, unconvinced. "So, if you don't want to work for Aizen, what're you gonna do? University?"_

"_No."_

_I sighed. "You could do it, you know, even this late in the game. You're one of the smartest people in the school. If not the smartest."_

"_I know," he grinned, arrogant. "But I don't want to do that. Think about it just pisses me off. I'd probably throw a table at one of the professors or something."_

"_After you refused to hand in an essay that was two months late."_

"_And I'd wandered in halfway through the lecture smoking a joint and hungover."_

_I laughed at the image. "It's probably best for everyone if you stay clear of school then. So, what do you want to do?"_

_Grimmjow thought about it, answered: "I wanna wander around the world like one of those old-fashioned explorers. Or a homeless tramp with nothing to lose. Sounds fun. Or maybe I'll be something weird like, I dunno, a tattooist or a racecar driver or something. Not some boring fucking salaryman."_

"_Yeah, I can imagine that." I closed my eyes, thinking about it and chuckling a little. "You seem kinda like a loner, like a…like a polar bear."_

"_A polar bear? The fuck are you talking about?"_

"_Well, you know, polar bears are always on their own. You never see them with other polar bears unless they're horny or something."_

_He took out a cigarette and lit up, eying me with a leer on his face. "Yeah, sounds like me. But I don't look like no fucking polar bear, so try again."_

"_It's not about what you _look_ like, it's about your personality."_

"_I don't have the personality of a polar bear either."_

"_You're being stupid on purpose!" I said, exasperated. "What I'm trying to say is that you're, like, predatory and, uh, solitary, and-"_

_He blew smoke into my face, eyebrow raised. "Fat and furry?"_

"_Sure, that's totally what I meant."_

"_Aw, don't get cranky on me." He ran his fingers through my hair playfully. It was such an intimate gesture and I was frozen solid, but I didn't know if he was aware of it, he kept on sucking in that nicotine-stained smoke and puffing it out at the sky, frowning and thoughtful._

"_Predatory, huh?" he said, considering it. "I like that. But not a polar bear. Smaller. Better-looking, for sure. More like…a big cat. Like…hmm…"_

"_A lion?" I offered._

"_Lions are pack animals, dumbass."_

"_Tiger, then."_

"_They look retarded."_

"_Maybe a leopard or a cheetah. I'll just keep listing all the big cats I know until we get it, shall I?"_

_Grimmjow frowned. "Naw, we're close, but not quite right. I'm not a cheetah, see, 'cause I'm stronger than I am fast. Leopards…the spots are just stupid. Um. What's that other one? The one like a leopard but black? You know, lives in the jungle and shit_."

"_Oh. Panther?"_

_He sat up straight, grinned. "Yeah, that's it. Panther. That's me."_

_I cocked my head at him. "Why?"_

"_Well, 'cuz they're awesome, that's why. And so am I. They're, like, sleek and elegant and deadly…see, it's perfect." He said it like it was obvious, and nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, I'm a panther."_

"_Good for you," I said dryly. "What would I be, out of curiosity?"_

_He looked at me very carefully for a second, then smiled slowly. "I would say a Chihuahua. You know, small and irritating."_

"_Fuck you!" I spluttered. "I take it back, you're nothing like a panther. You're more like a hyena or something, freaky and annoying. And I'm taller than you are anyway, so don't talk crap about me being small."_

_He didn't believe me. We got up, stood back to back, then realized that no one else was there to measure us and turned around. Things started getting a little awkward then. His face was so close to mine, I almost couldn't concentrate. But I stood with my back straight and stared him right in the eye, reveling in the shock that ran across his face when he realized that for the first time since we had known each other, I was taller than he was._

"_The fuck!" he exclaimed. "When did you grow, dickhead?"_

_I smiled down at him. _Down _at him. "Called a late growth spurt. Never heard of it?"_

_He sneered. "Prick."_

"_Asshole."_

"_Douchebag."_

_I don't think I need to go on. The conversations we had were pretty cyclical when it came to the insults we threw at each other. It didn't really mean anything; it was just the way we were with each other._

_**

* * *

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun. ~ **_**Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**

* * *

"I cannot believe you have never fucking seen _The Shawshank Redemption_."

"Stop fucking bitching and just put it on already!"

"Seriously, Grimmjow, I'm starting to worry about you here. At least tell me you've seen _The Godfather."_

He just looked at me.

Oh my god. _"No?"_

A head shake. No.

"_Goodfellas?"_

No.

"_Pulp Fiction?"_

No.

My voice was faint. _"S-Scarface?"_

He just sighed and pursed his lips, irritated.

"Oh holy lord," I breathed. "That is it. That is absolutely it. You!" I pointed at him imperiously. _"You_ have been lacking in _education._ In _taste._ Your life is a bleak barren _wasteland."_

"Just 'cuz I ain't seen a few movies?" he grumbled.

"Thankfully," I said. "I'm here to change all that."

"Yeah? By doing what, shithead?"

"We are going to have a movie night," I said sternly. "And you are going to _watch them all."_

"No fucking way in hell, I need to _sleep._ And I don't even think we have all those films."

Aha, _that _wasn't going to stop me! "I'll find them here somewhere, you got a fuck-ton of DVDs. And I have them, anyway, so if they're not here I'll lend you some. Either that or you can come over to my place and watch 'em."

He gave me a strange little grin. "Yeah, OK. I won't complain about that."

I sniffed and plopped down next to him on the couch, wrestled him for control of the remote, and began his education.

_**

* * *

There is nothing wrong with going to bed with someone of your own sex. People should be very free with sex; they should draw the line at goats. ~ **_**Elton John**

* * *

I think we watched five movies that night, the ones I'd told him I'd never seen. I dunno why Kurosaki was so shocked when he heard that, it wasn't like I'd had time to fuck around watching classics while I was young. Mostly because I was getting stoned or beating people up or whatever, but that's not the point.

It's not like I regret _not_ watching them. They were good, but not life-changing or anything. I couldn't keep my mind on them, mostly because Kurosaki was slumped on the couch next to me, and kept being distracting. Smelling…good. And stuff. He kept mouthing along with the lines too, in _Shawshank_ and _Godfather, _but he never talked out loud or made stupid comments, like most people do when they watch films at home. He would be a good person to go to the cinema with – I remember thinking that.

And then I remember groaning mentally and resigning myself to never caring why those two guys shot Marvin's head off in _Pulp Fiction, _because that was when Kurosaki sort of just shifted a little and the whole length of his thigh started pressing against mine.

He fell asleep at the beginning of the last one. It was _Scarface._ I wasn't actually paying attention to what was happening, 'cause I'd just watched four fucking movies in a row and my head was starting to hurt like hell, but I felt something kind of just…fall onto my shoulder.

He'd dozed off. I noticed that his neck looked like it was bent at a pretty uncomfortable angle too, so I moved a bit until he was practically on top of me. He was drooling a little, but he was really warm and comfortable.

Peaches.

His hair fucking smelled like _peaches._

Oh fuck, I was so hungry now.

And I really had to rein myself in and kill the urge to bury my nose in his hair, because that would be going too far.

So let's just say that no more concentration was wasted on whatever the fuck Tony Montana was doing after that. I was just working too hard on not getting a hard-on and waking him up, since that would've been cripplingly embarrassing and all.

Kurosaki really was a messy sleeper. He snorted and snored and mumbled under his breath, wriggling and kicking and getting drool all over me. I didn't give a shit about that, though. Just watching him was too amusing.

And he woke up weird, too. Like, his eyes just suddenly popped open and he gasped the word, 'Riceballs!' then rolled over and fell flat on his back on the floor. He blinked at the ceiling and rubbed his head, scowling at me when I almost started pissing myself laughing.

"Was I asleep?" he asked.

"Hah, yeah. Aw, that was hilarious. Do you always wake up like that?" I couldn't stop sniggering.

He was red-faced. "Only if I have a weird dre- shit, did I miss the movie?"

I looked at the TV: the end credits were rolling. "Seems like it."

"Dammit," he sighed, and got up. "Well, it's OK, I've seen _Scarface_ like fifty million times anyway. I know all the lines."

"Wow, that's sad."

"It's a good movie!" he defended. "You've just seen it, you can't argue with that."

I shrugged. "Didn't really pay attention. I'm totally beat. I hope you know it's like, three in the morning, yeah?"

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." He looked torn. "I think I should go home, then. Um. Unless…"

I gave him a smirk. "You wanna stay over?"

"Um. Yeah. Is…is that OK? I mean, my family thinks I'm staying over at Renji's but I don't think they'll mind if I'm here-"

"It's cool." I waved it off and stood up, stretching. There were a couple of cracks as my bones popped back into place, and I grinned as he made a face at the noise. "All right. You remember where everything is, don't you? Bathroom, kitchen, shit like that?"

"Uh, yeah. But, where am I sleeping?"

"There's enough space in my room," I said. A blatant lie, but how I could I turn away this amazing opportunity? Having him so close would torture me, but like I said, I'm a masochist.

"Are you sure I can sleep in your room?" Kurosaki asked, frowning a little. "There are tons of spare rooms, though, aren't there? Can't I sleep in one of them?"

"Hey, if you wanna breathe in a decade's worth of dust and grime while you sleep, that's fine by me. My room or the kitchen floor, take it or leave it."

I could see he wanted to argue, but I guess he was a lot more tired than I'd thought, since he only grunted and gave in. He followed me up to my room, but paused a moment before he went in.

"What is it, Kurosaki?" I asked, impatient.

"I've never been in here before," he said slowly, casting his gaze around. "It's…"

"It's a fucking mess, yeah, I know. Come in already, it won't eat you."

He looked at the floor dubiously, taking in the dirty clothes and magazines and all the other crap that was scattered everywhere. "Is there enough room on the floor for a mattress? There's no way in hell that tiny bed could take two of us."

I tried really, really hard not to dwell on that statement and kicked a ton of stuff under my bed, clearing a square patch just big enough to fit a futon. "There. Happy?"

"Hardly." Kurosaki rubbed his eyes. "Need sheets and stuff. Change of clothes. And I forgot my toothbrush."

"So?"

"I need my fucking toothbrush," he said stubbornly.

"Jeez, don't be such a pussy. There're spares in the bathroom down the hall. I'll get the mattress and sheets and stuff, and you can just wear the same clothes tomorrow. Simple."

He looked revolted. "I can't wear the same underwear two days in a row!"

A moment of stunned silence.

"Holy shit. You're gayer than I am. Are you sure you're a real guy?"

"Of course I am."

"Ever heard of just turning it inside out? It's what the rest of the male population worldwide does."

"Don't be so fucking stupid…"

We bickered for a bit, just exchanging mild insults until it was finally time for bed. I flopped onto my bed and I pulled the sheets up to my chin but that was too warm; I shoved them down to my waist but that was too cold. I kept tossing and turning. Just having him there beside me, so close…I couldn't drift off. Every time I was near to it he would move, and the rustling sounds of the sheets reminded me he was there and I leapt back into consciousness. It was aggravating in the extreme. After half an hour, though, he spoke up, proving that he was as restless as I was.

"Grimmjow." His voice was raspy. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah. So tired, though."

"Mm. Same."

"Can't believe you're so anal about brushing your teeth."

"Yuzu's fault. If we don't brush our teeth at least ten minutes after we eat, we don't get the next meal. It's gotten so bad I can't sleep till my gums are sore."

"She sounds like a sadist."

"There are cruel, hidden depths to every person in my family."

I mumbled something back in vague amusement and flipped over, lying on my stomach and letting my arm hang over the edge of the bed. It wasn't low-lying, but my fingers could touch the floor if I stretched them out. I looked out my window blearily – the moon was out and blindingly bright.

Why hadn't someone closed the fucking curtains? No wonder I couldn't sleep, I always needed complete darkness.

"Grimmjow…"

Something brushed against my hanging hand teasingly, then clasped around it.

Kurosaki. His hand holding mine, his fingers entwining in mine. I think my heart literally stopped beating for a second.

"Jeez, your hand's fucking _freezing,"_ Kurosaki said softly. _His_ hand wasn't cold: it was warm and the skin was girlishly soft, even though there were calluses on his palm and the pads of his fingers.

When I spoke, it was irritatingly croaky, because I was trying not to think about the fact that _Kurosaki Ichigo_ was holding hands with me. "Yeah. Really cold. All the time. It's weird."

"Mmm." He squeezed, gently. "Bad circulation?"

"D-dunno."

He didn't reply, just gave another squeeze and slipped his hand away from mine. Ah fuck, that feeling, like – like I was far too cold without him touching me. I had to stuff my face in my pillow and growl to get rid of the frustration.

I don't think he heard it. I hoped he hadn't heard it. I lay there silently for another few minutes, wondering if he was still awake. Then I heard a soft mumble followed by a drawn-out snuffly snore, and I knew he wasn't, and I knew I had to suffer through that night alone.

And fucking hell, did I suffer.

He slept so deeply, lying on his front, head to the side, mouth open and drooling on the pillow. The sheets had fallen down to his hips and the shirt he was wearing was riding up, exposing his lower back. The moonlight illuminated every plane and curve, the dip of his spine, the smoothness of his skin, the muscles bunching and shifting underneath. One of Kurosaki's arms was folded under his head, the other one stretched out and lying so close that I could reach out and touch him.

I wanted to. I wanted to so badly.

So I did.

I got out of bed and crouched beside him. I touched the back of his neck, where the hair was softest. He made a weird little snorting sound and twitched and I pulled my hand back fast, terrified.

What the fuck was I doing?

This was some real creepy shit. He'd made me into some kind of stalker.

Fuck. _Fuck._

Kurosaki turned around, now stretched out on his back. He frowned a little and arched his back, moving to get more comfortable. I stared at his stomach. Flat, muscular, with fine blond hair running in a line down from his navel, down, down, down, past the waistband of his boxer shorts.

His hipbones stuck out. Not like in an anorexic way, but in a defined way. A hot way. Like a fucking arrow, those hipbones and that trail of hair, like an arrow pointing right to-

I could feel my gut clench, and I stood up and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. A cold shower. A cold, cold shower. That was what I need the most.

Unfortunately it didn't do a fucking thing. I stood there under the icy water with my eyes closed, letting it pound down on my head, and I still couldn't get the images out of my mind. That body, that skin, under me. The sounds he would make, the way he would taste, the feeling of his fingertips digging into my back and my scalp.

I could see him. And the feel of him, the warmth and weight of his body on mine, I couldn't forget it. I could see Kurosaki right there with me, in that shower, arms around my waist and smiling at me, leaning forward and letting his lips touch mine oh so gently, a hand trailing down my cheek, his body flush against mine. No space between us, not even air.

Such a vivid fucking image. So real. I closed my eyes. I could feel it. I could feel him. And shit, I was so fucking hard.

My head rested against the tile of the wall, my mouth fell open, helpless noises escaping my lips as I stroked myself hard. Kurosaki, kneeling in front of me and sucking me into his mouth, his tongue running over my cock and his lips on my skin, I'd grab that hair and pull him up for a bruising kiss, wrap my arms around him so tight he wouldn't ever be able to leave them. Me inside him, those tight muscles clenching around me, oh god-

When I came it was with a pathetic little gasp, and I bowed my head, eyes still shut.

The water washed it all away physically, but my blood was still raging with arousal. My nerves hummed with it. I stepped back into my room, clothes and hair damp, and Kurosaki was on his side this time, facing my bed, and I couldn't look at him. I crawled under the sheets with my hair still wet, my back to him, and tried to get to sleep.

I didn't dream that night, thank god. If I had, I don't know what kind of dreams they would've been. I didn't need my situation getting even more complicated than it already was, and let me tell you, it was pretty damn complicated.


	20. airing out dirty laundry

**trust **_noun _

1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.

2. confident expectation of something; hope.

3. a person on whom or thing on which one relies.

4. the condition of one to whom something has been entrusted.

5. the obligation or responsibility imposed on a person in whom confidence or authority is placed: a position of trust.

* * *

I can't remember if it was a summer night or not, but we couldn't see the stars because of the light pollution. I can clearly recall that it was pretty warm. No, wait, it wasn't summer. It was after I'd slept over at Grimmjow's house for the first time. So about late fall or early winter. For some reason, we were out for a walk. I don't know why. We never seemed to need a reason, we just strolled around the streets aimlessly for hours and hours until we ended up either at my house or his. That night we took a random detour, and ended up at a kid's park. It was dark and deserted, and the gate was locked. But I couldn't help myself.

"Hey," I said, too excited. "Let's go in there!"

Grimmjow looked at me like I was retarded. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah!"

"What are you, five?"

"Aw, c'mon. Let your inner child out for once."

"I never had one, I'm not a pedophile like you."

I ignored him and jumped over the fence easily, going over to one of the swings and sitting down. The chains creaked, and they were deathly cold. I smiled at Grimmjow, rocking back and forth on the seat.

"You're such an old man. Life is short, asshole, live it while you can."

"And living my life includes acting like someone messed up in the head?" he said dryly.

"Party pooper."

"Moron."

I sighed, leaning my head against one of the chains, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. They always worked on Renji. "At least come and push me or something."

I saw him repress a smirk, rolling his eyes. He jumped over the fence and came to sit beside me on the other swing, feet scraping against the floor. All we did for a few minutes was just stay there, moving to and fro, slow and relaxed. Nothing needed to be said. It was so easy to just be with him like this, to walk and be silent and not have to do anything. And it wasn't awkward. It was like being with Chad, but...different. I loved Chad, he was one of my absolute best friends, but this was different.

Just back and forth, back and forth in that twilight. The air felt like a blanket. All I ever wanted was in those moments. There was so much I needed to say to him, but I couldn't say with words.

"Kurosaki..."

He broke the silence, soft and cautious. It was so unlike him, I had to pay attention.

"Yeah?"

Grimmjow looked at me and opened his mouth. Then he looked into my eyes. He hesitated. It seemed the words couldn't come out for him either. I placed my hand on his, just a whisper's touch.

"What is it?" I asked.

Grimmjow stared at our hands. The look in his eyes was pained.

"Kurosaki," he said. "Does it matter?"

"Does what matter?"

"That I'm gay."

I didn't get it. My brow puckered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"People are saying things," he told me abruptly. "About us. You know."

"Yeah, I know. Renji told me. So what?"

"You don't care?"

"No. Do you?"

All of a sudden, Grimmjow was livid, angrier than I'd seen him in a long time.

"You don't think people say nice things, right?" he spat. "They're calling you a queer, you know that? Homo. Faggot. Fudge-packer. Ass-pirate."

"I've been called worse. I still don't care."

You_ liar,_ Ichigo. You stinking, disgusting liar.

I did care. I did. Not about the names - I'd been called names before. I've been picked on since I was a kid, I didn't care what people said about me behind my back.

But it was still hard, to say that I liked him out loud. For a number of reasons. Mostly, I was just a filthy coward.

"You seriously don't give a shit?" He was snarling, like an enraged animal.

"No." _Most of the time._

"Why?"

"Because it's nothing to be ashamed of."

He was shocked into silence, and stared into my eyes.

"I don't care if you're gay, Grimmjow," I said.

The fury came surging right back. But somehow, it was mixed with confusion, desperation and…something else. His eyes were blazing.

"Don't give me that bullshit! Of course it matters. It always matters." He got off the swing and kneeled down in front of me, sneering. "I haven't got a disease you could catch? I'm not disgusting, dirty, unnatural? You're saying, if I come near you, you don't want to run away? If I touch you, you won't be disgusted? If I'm all up in your face like this, you don't wanna smack me in the face 'cuz I'm too close?"

"I _do_ want to smack you in the face," I said evenly, "but not because you're gay, because you're being a dick."

He was so close to me. His nose was barely an inch away from mine. My heart was hammering.

All I had to do was move forward just a tiny bit and I'd be kissing him. It was so hard not to. I controlled myself.

"I told you, Grimmjow. I don't. Give. A shit."

It was hardly above a breath. He was looking intently into my eyes, gaze deep and wondering and amazed.

"You don't…"

"I don't care. I'll say it as many times as I need to. I'm fine with anyone who's gay, lesbian, bi, whatever. It's not a disease, it's not a choice – I get that. I don't care how you live your life as long as you don't hurt yourself." _As long as you don't hurt me._

"I've already hurt myself," he muttered, falling back to sit on his ass, moving away from me.

"But you've moved on from that, right?"

He gave me a disgusted glance. "I ain't talking about drugs."

"Then what _are _you talking about?"

He opened his mouth again, then shut it quickly. His blue, blue eyes; they were tortured.

"Grimmjow?"

"Never mind," he said coldly. "It doesn't matter."

"I mean what I said before, you know."

"Do you?"

"Of course! All of us are like that. My friends, I mean. Yumi's been out for years, there's that crazy lesbian in our class no one even bothers about unless she's creeping on Inoue – Grimmjow, a lot of people are homophobic, but a lot of people aren't, too. It's fine. I don't mind, my friends don't mind. We're all OK with it."

I was more than OK with it, but how could I tell him that? He'd just laugh at me. I knew he would

"I don't care about your friends," he said, contemptuous.

"It's just an example!"

Grimmjow stared at the ground, scowling so blackly I didn't want to distract him. It felt like he could turn on me at any minute.

"Your bitches might not care," he said finally, "but my parents did."

And so, we came to the heart of the problem.

A breeze blew past, ruffling his hair. When he didn't keep it all spiked up and styled with gel it hung in his eyes and made him look so young. I wanted to brush it away from his forehead.

"When did you tell them?"

"I didn't _tell_ my dad," he leered. "He saw me getting fucked by another guy and worked it out from there. Couldn't look me in the eye for weeks. He was hardly at home then anyway, it didn't matter."

"And…what about your mom?"

His lips twisted bitterly. "Ah, my sweet loving mother. You'll like this story."

Something told me I wouldn't.

"You know my mom's a crazy-ass Catholic?" Grimmjow said, eyes bright with hatred. "No, I never told you that, did I. She used to make me go to church. Every Sunday. No matter where we were, which country we went to, she'd find one and take me there. She did the same to dad, too. And she forced me to memorize the Bible and take Holy Communion. She almost got me to be an altar boy, once." He laughed, and it was wild and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "So maybe I'd've worked out I was a homo a little sooner, huh? One of the priests might've fucked me and I probably would've enjoyed it."

"Grimmjow, don't say that."

He heard the sharpness in my voice. His mouth turned into a hard line. "You don't know what it's like, Kurosaki, to get fed line after line about how you're supposed to be. How you should act. What you should think, about yourself and everyone else. You know what the Bible says about gays? I'm an abomination. A freak. Unclean. In some countries, I'd be locked away for life. I'd be hanged. Stoned to death. Put down like a fucking animal."

"You're not in any of those countries. And you're not an abomination."

"Try telling that to my mother. I still remember what she called me. You want me to repeat all the things she said? All the names? I came out to her and she went mad, she started screaming and cursing at me, she said I'd be going straight to Hell and I'd be there for eternity while Satan poked a red-hot pitchfork up my ass every day all day for ever, and he'd laugh and all the demons would laugh and I'd be surrounded by fire for the rest of time because I was wrong and unclean and I deserved it-"

Grimmjow couldn't talk anymore, because I'd grabbed him and pulled him to me, wrapping me arms around him, hugging him tight. He was shaking. So was I. The thought crossed my mind that this was the first ever time we'd really hugged each other, but there was no discomfort or awkwardness. It felt…right.

His chest was heaving, but he wasn't crying. He was just…it just seemed like he found it hard to breathe. Every line of his body was taut and tense. His hands came up and fisted in my shirt, and he pressed his head into my neck, shuddering a bit as my chin rested on his blue hair.

"You're not wrong. You're not a freak. You don't deserve any of that," I said to him, quietly and dangerously. "And your mom is the one who deserves to burn in Hell."

"You think I haven't told her that?" It was muffled. He was clinging to me like a baby monkey.

"I can't believe she said that to you." I was burning. Furious. How could she? How _dare_ she? How could any mother say that to their kid? Fuck, wherever she was, I hope she'd rot in a gutter somewhere. What a fucking monster. No wonder he hated her. I would too.

"She came to visit me once. I told you about it," Grimmjow said, moving his head so it rested on my shoulder. I'd slid off the swing to sit in front of him. The ground was cold under my knees, but the rest of me was warm because of him.

"In the hospital."

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"She tried to make it up with me. Said she was sorry. Hah!"

I stroked his hair. I don't know why. It felt like the right thing to do, and he didn't mind. He sighed, and went on.

"I woke up and she was there. Sitting right beside me, just looking at me. All she did was sit and stare, for hours. She was crying the whole time. Once she tried to touch me but I hit her hand away and told her I hated her and she could die for all I cared. I said it was all her fault, anyway. I said, she ruined my life and everything that'd gone wrong with me was her fault. I told her I'd never wanted to be born in the first place, and especially not to a frigid heartless bitch like her." He released a deep, shaking breath. "And she didn't leave, you know that? She didn't leave or get mad or hit me. She just kept on crying. And she said she was sorry, over and over again. And I said I didn't give a shit and I didn't want her there, she made me sick. Just looking at her made me feel sick. I hated her. I hated her so fucking much."

"I don't blame you."

"She called, before." Grimmjow pulled back and looked me in the eye. "On that morning. Before I overdosed. That's why."

"Why what?"

His face was set into a very intense expression. His gaze pretty much drilled into me. "Why I took the drugs. She called, and it was the first time I'd heard her voice in five years. And I remembered what she said to me, and I realized she was right. I was worthless. So I…" He stopped and grinned, and I wanted him to stop it because it was mad in every sense. He said, calmly, "I tried to kill myself."

My mouth fell open. I stared at him.

Kill himself? He'd tried to - ?

No. No way. He wouldn't-

Grimmjow's insane smile split wider. "Funny story, huh?"

"No!" I exploded, hands on his shoulders. "No, it's not funny! Grimmjow, you…are you serious?"

"As a heart attack." That smile, that terrible smile, it got even worse. "Or a suicide attempt."

I shook him, even more furious. "Why didn't you tell me before, you _asshole?"_

"Why should I?"

"It's…you…_why?_ Why did you do that?"

"I told you," he said, and I was stunned by how calm and amused he sounded, "I remembered what she said. Every word. And I thought to myself, you know what, she was right. My life was worthless. There was no point in me being here. No one cared. I hated everything, I hated my family and my boss and school and you and…and I hated everything. People. Animals. The sky, the rain, the sun. _Everything._ I could've died and rotted away and no one would've given a shit."

"That's not true, I cared!"

"The fuck you did. You hated me."

"And you hated me. So what? That doesn't mean I wanted you to die, you stupid shit!"

Grimmjow shrugged. "Does it matter? There was no point in me being alive. Life was meaningless and I didn't give a shit about anyone and no one gave a shit about me. I didn't do anything worthwhile, all I did was skulk around being Aizen's bitch, dealing drugs and beating people up, stealing and robbing, and I hated it. I hated him. So what was the point?"

I had never seen Grimmjow like this. Usually he would be spitting fire, punching things and swearing like a sailor, but now, instead, he was quiet and defeated and _wrong._ His head went down to rest on my shoulder again. I could feel his breath against my neck and the softness of his hair. His hands were still clutching me.

"Grimmjow, you're not worthless."

He looked like he was going to argue but I took his head in my hands and pulled it in front of me, said, "Don't say a fucking thing. You're not worthless. So don't you ever think or say that ever again, all right? You're not worthless and there are plenty of people who care about you. Your dad does. I'm sure your mom does. Nell does. And…" I swallowed. "And I do, too. A lot."

Too much. So much I feel like it could kill me.

Was this just a crush, or was it something else?

Grimmjow gazed at me searchingly. My thumb ran along one of his cheekbones, and his breath hitched.

"I'm your friend," I said, "and I care about you. So don't say you're worthless, and don't hurt yourself and don't ever _ever _try to kill yourself _ever _again, do you hear me? If you feel like that again, give me a call and I'll knock the shit outta you for being so stupid."

He still didn't believe me. I gave his head a violent shake.

"Listen to me, asshole!" I growled. "I'm here, all right? If you ever wanna talk or bitch or whine or whatever, I'm here for you. I'll listen to you and advise you and all that shit and I'll smack you around and call you out when I think your ego needs deflating, yeah? You're too fucking rude and insensitive, and you need someone there to tell you when you're being an asshole. Otherwise one day you'll take it too far and get yourself killed, just 'cuz you pissed off the wrong person."

"_I'm_ rude and insensitive?" he breathed, skin glowing white in the light of the street lamps. "Like you can talk. I've never met a stupid shit more arrogant than you."

"That's 'cuz you've never really met yourself."

He smiled, and it had my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in every limb. I was still holding his face in my hands and I let them slide away, not wanting to give into the urge to keep touching him. To run my fingers through his hair. To move forward and let my lips touch his cheek, drag them to the side and press them against his mouth, kiss him so deeply and hungrily I would never forget the taste of him in my mouth.

The silence between us was still and heavy, pregnant with the promise of something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Grimmjow's gaze was still locked onto mine, and his eyes were swirling with emotion.

I couldn't. I just couldn't be this close to him, touch him like this, I couldn't do it or I'd just-

Once, we'd almost kissed. I'd blanked that from my mind, but at that moment it all came rushing back to me.

We had been by the river, the last evening of summer vacation, he'd tickled me and we fell down the hill and his mouth had been so, so close to mine, and me – I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't move away, I didn't stop him, it wasn't till that kid came along that I-

"By the way, I ain't ever told any of that to somebody before," Grimmjow said, shattering the silence, "so I'll break your face if you go spreading it around like you got herpes, yeah?"

"Of course I wouldn't," I said, snorting at the comparison.

The atmosphere was righted again. Before it had been like a scale that had been unbalanced by all the things I couldn't say, a wheel spinning out of control. But Grimmjow had put his finger back on it, had returned to his normal personality instead of someone so cowed and vulnerable. _He_ was back to normal. So I just had to follow suit, right?

"Anyway Kurosaki, I'm only warning you 'cuz I know you have a mouth looser than a whore's vagina."

"Grimmjow, what the fuck!"

"What?" He smirked, sliding back into his old asshole self. "You can't keep a secret, admit it. You're always telling me shit you're never supposed to reveal about Abarai and all your other retard friends."

"Yeah, but only because I know you won't tell anyone else."

"So what, you trust me?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

He seemed surprised and pleased. "Hm. OK, fine, I guess I'll trust you back."

"Good. We got that settled then."

I got up to my feet and went back to my swing, taking the chains in my hands and dragging my feet across the ground as I swung back and forth. He did the same. I missed his warmth, and the feeling of his skin under my fingers, and his head resting under my chin. It was…I didn't know what it was.

No, wait. I tell a lie. I knew exactly what it was. But that silent meaningful moment had passed, and I'd never get it back, and I didn't think I'd ever find a chance to say what I wanted to say again.

"Sooo…" Grimmjow drawled, leaning closer to me. "You got any dirty little secrets you wanna tell me about? It's only fair, since I told you one. And sharing is caring."

I thought about it, then tipped my head towards his, conspiratorial.

"OK," I said, "there is this _one _thing…"

He mirrored me, until our faces were close together. "I have a feeling this is gonna be good."

My lips twitched in an embarrassed smile. "You better not tell _anyone _about this, you hear me?"

"Yeah yeah."

"Seriously, I've never told this to anybody else in my life. This is a complete secret known only between me and my dead mom, God rest her soul. Got it?"

"Just spill already." Grimmjow had a predatory grin on his face.

"All right…" I took a deep breath, already feeling a blush on my cheeks. "OK, so…so, I was really retarded as a kid, right? I was gullible as shit, I believed everything anyone told me, especially my mom. And I really…well, er, one day I overheard someone telling their daughter about puberty and all that crap and, uh, periods and stuff and I…I…"

"You what?" Grimmjow said. His eyes were sparkling.

"It was really scary to hear about, you know? All that blood and stuff and she didn't say it was just for girls so I kind of…I was terrified of getting them too."

He started sniggering, but I had more to say and went on, "I was _really_ scared. Like, I was _crying_ when I went to my mom about it and I expected her to tell me to it was fine and stuff but…"

"What'd she say?"

"She totally fucking lied to me!" I cried. "She was all, 'Oh don't worry Ichigo, it happens to every little boy, it's all part of growing up and being a man yadda yadda yadda' and then I _really _started bawling and screaming and I said I didn't wanna be a boy, I wanted to be a girl 'cuz they didn't have all this menstruation stuff to look forward to…so, er…"

"What? What?" he asked, eagerly, a huge smile on his face.

"Oh, man…she, er…she started dressing me up as a girl. Just for a few weeks, because I didn't want to be a boy anymore." I was blushing from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I covered my face with my hands. "See, I told you I was a retard!"

Grimmjow was really laughing now, bent double with his head resting on his knees and his arms holding his sides.

"Oh my fucking god, I keep on imagining you in dresses and pigtails," he gasped. "You were so fucking stupid!"

He caught my eye again and we broke into fresh laughter at the exact same instant. You know that sort of laughing where your face hurts and your chest hurts and you try and try to stop but you can't? 'Cuz you keep looking at each other and just lose all your control, and you laugh and laugh until tears run down your face but you just can't stop since it's too damn funny? We got that, for so long I was aching all over.

Grimmjow leaned forward, laughing so much he overbalanced and fell off the swing and faceplanted right into the ground. And of course that set us off again, until I did the same thing and ended up lying next to him, my muscles weak and sore from so much mirth. We just lay there, giggling and snorting helplessly, until we were too tired even for that and the slightest movement hurt.

I couldn't ever remember laughing that hard in my life.

We lay there on our backs, spread out on the ground. It was cold and damp, and we couldn't stay there too long or we would get pneumonia or something, but for the moment it was good just to stay there and calm down, wait until our hearts were back at normal rhythm before staggering to our feet and going back to his house. Even on the way we'd giggle, just catching each other's eye and start grinning, then one would tell other to shut the hell up because we didn't want to be rolling around the streets howling with laughter that late at night.

I was still wiping tears from my eyes when we were at his place. His dad had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the TV, and when we came in he woke up with a jerk. Then he turned sleepily to us and demanded to know where we'd been, what we'd been doing, also dinner was in the fridge and don't stay out so late again in the future – all that worried parent stuff.

Me and Grimmjow had some rice and stuff, trying not to look at each other because if we did then we'd burst out laughing and choke to death on our food. After we finished we went up to his room to go to bed, even though we weren't a bit tired. We just ended up sitting on his bed, our backs to the wall, talking in really low voices so his dad couldn't hear and yell at us to go to sleep. We were under his covers, since it was always really cold in Grimmjow's room, and our toes were touching. Sometimes his moved a little and tickled mine. It made me go all hot and cold at the same time.

He was telling me about Europe. He said that ever since he was a kid his parents would take him to a different country each year and they'd spend a month just travelling around. They had summer mansions in every corner of the goddamn Earth, it seemed. He said that by the end of each month he could speak a little of whatever language they spoke there, and that he could still remember some Italian or Spanish, if he tried hard enough. Of course, I was insanely jealous.

"Damn, that sounds so cool! I've never even been outside Japan."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I've never been on a plane, either."

At that, he was shocked. "What the fuck? You went to Okinawa, didn't you fly there?"

"No, we took a ferry. They're more fun."

"I bet you were too scared to take a plane," he said, giving me a half-hearted punch to the shoulder.

I punched back. "Shaddup, it's only 'cause my family's not super-rich like yours."

"If you go somewhere nearby it's not _that _expensive."

"And where would we go, the well-known tourist destination of North Korea? I don't think so."

"Don't you have money? I thought your dad was a doctor."

"A doctor who has a private clinic to run and maintain. Do you even know how much that costs? He's got equipment to keep running and things to buy, and he's always busy. Disease and disaster don't take vacations."

Grimmjow looked at my frustrated expression and said, "So, come with me."

"Eh?" I blinked at him.

"Us, I mean. My dad and me," he added quickly. "We haven't been anywhere for a while, he's been busy and shit, but I can bully him into taking us somewhere for summer or something."

"And I can go with you?"

"If you want." He said it casually, but his eyes were very intent.

"That would be so cool!" I tried not to sound too much like a kid but an excited smile broke out on my face anyway. Grimmjow smiled back.

"So where would ya wanna go?"

"England."

He wrinkled his nose. "England? Why the fuck do you wanna go_ there?"_

"I want to visit the place Shakespeare was born."

"…That is so sad I think I might pass out."

"Shut up, we talked about this! More talent than your nipple, remember?"

"But England is so _boring._ All it does is rain," he whined. Then his eyes blossomed with a bloodthirsty light. "I like Spain better, they have bullfights and shit. And you get to see it being killed at the end. The blood gets _everywhere,_ it's so cool."

"That's gross."

"Plus, there's lotsa hot guys." He glanced at me and his expression got a little darker. "And girls too, I guess."

"Oh." I thought about it. "Does it get really hot in summer there?"

"Really hot. Once it was so bad I tried frying an egg on a rock and it actually worked."

"Wow."

"I hated it," Grimmjow said bluntly. "I hate the sun."

"I thought you hated the rain?"

"Yeah I do, but the sun always makes me feel all tired and sleepy. So fucking annoying."

"I guess you don't go the beach that often then."

"Are you fucking kidding me? I hate the sun, I hate sand, and I hate water. There's a reason I only take showers. The beach is a deadly fucking combination for me."

"God, aren't you easy to please."

"Hey, you wanna go or not?"

"Hmph. Fine."

Grimmjow smiled wickedly and, completely out of nowhere, smacked me in the face with a pillow. He started laughing his ass off at me when I fell off the bed. That stupid fucking thing, there was never room for more than one person on it. But I managed to retaliate and it wasn't even five minutes later when his dad stormed in and started shouting that he had to go to work in the morning.

"I have a steady job and income, unlike you immature little boys! Really, aren't you too old for this!" he screeched, waving his arms about. Me and Grimmjow looked at each other and both suppressed a smile. What it is about being yelled at that always makes you want to grin stupidly? All it does is get you into more trouble.

"And these pillows!" his dad exclaimed, finally noticing that during the fight one of our weapons had exploded, meaning that tiny, soft white feathers covered us and the bed, like it had snowed inside. "Grimmjow, do you know how much they cost? Finest goose-down feathers from France! A king's ransom to buy in this country!"

"Dad, chill. They're just pillows."

"You better find a way to replace these!"

Grimmjow yawned in his face. "Yeah whatever. Hey, can Kurosaki come with us on vacation in summer?"

"Eh?"

"Va-ca-tion," Grimmjow repeated slowly. "Sum-mer. Can – he – come – with – us?"

"I am not a child," his dad replied, irritable. "And I have not made any plans for this summer. As far as I am aware we are staying here."

"Can't we just go to one of the houses?"

He started looking a little shifty. "No, we can't."

"What? Why the fu- why not?"

"Because I've sold all of them."

Grimmjow sat straight up, eyes wide and outraged, snapping, _"What?_ Why the hell would you do that?"

"No one was using them!" his dad retorted, tugging at his collar. He wouldn't meet our eyes. "They were too expensive to maintain. We had not been to one in many years, and I did not…ah, how you say…see the point." He frowned, then changed to French and spoke to Grimmjow sharply, who subsided, even though he had a mutinous scowl on his face. Then his dad looked at me and smiled warmly.

"Good evening, Ichigo-san! I'm sorry for all the shouting. You're well?"

"Yeah, I'm good." I gave him a little wave.

His line of sight flickered to where me and Grimmjow were sitting. We were pressed up close together, since the bed was so tiny, and Grimmjow's head was resting on my shoulder. If I turned my head, his hair would be tickling my nose.

"Well." Grimmjow's dad had a strange little smile on his face. "Good night, you two. Er…sleep well."

He winked and left. Grimmjow watched him with a small frown on his face. "What the fuck, did he just wink at us?"

"Never mind that, what did he say to you?"

"That he'd talk to me later," he said grumpily. "Asshole. He's such a shitty liar."

"He is?"

"It's so easy to tell when he's lying, he goes all red and nervous and can't look me in the eye."

"What was he lying to you about?"

"The houses. Why he sold them."

"I guess if you're not using them, there was no point in keeping them," I said, trying to be reasonable.

"Yeah, but I wanna know why he did it. He never had a problem before." He pursed his lips and his scowl deepened. "Well, whatever. Who gives a shit. We can arrange something else."

I smiled. "Cool."

Grimmjow's expression softened just a shade. He brushed a fingertip against my ear. It sent a shock through my whole body.

"By the way, you got feathers all over you."

"Y-yeah, but so do you." His touch left my skin feeling white-hot and I hoped he hadn't noticed the slight stutter. I said, "You got one on your lip."

Then I very slowly and very deliberately plucked it off. Grimmjow's eyes darkened a bit, and I saw his pupils dilate. He licked his lips. Again, the silence between us was charged, electric. I felt it press down on me. Every muscle in my body was tense, every nerve ready to fire. Something stirred in the pit of my stomach. Grimmjow put his hand on my knee, and I didn't move away.

"Kurosaki-"

He didn't finish. His dad popped his head through the door, and the hand shot away from me.

"Grimmjow, I forgot to tell you, I have a meeting all day tomorrow but I'm expecting a parcel. Can you stay home and collect it?"

Grimmjow nodded, jerkily. His face was pale.

"Good. Look boys, it's late. Go to bed now, please."

We agreed and he left again, this time with no mysterious wink. Silence, again, strained and waiting. And then Grimmjow said,

"Damn, we better clean this up. Shame we killed one, eh? '_Finest goose-down feathers from France',_ after all."

He mimicked his dad's voice, the accent and the pitch, so completely perfectly it was eerie. I looked at him, and he looked back, and we broke into quiet laughter once again, ribs aching, covering our mouths and burying our heads into each other's necks so his dad wouldn't hear us and finally lose patience. Tears were running down my face again, and his arms were around my waist.

"Grimmjow, you're such an asshole to your dad!" I managed to choke out, when we'd calmed down a bit.

He guffawed. "He deserves it! They're fucking _pillows!"_

"A king's ransom, remember!" I said to him sternly, and oh god that just started us right off again. It was the closest I'd ever come to dying. Grimmjow has that dangerous effect on me.

From then on, all one of us had to do was say those few words and that would set us off, a private little joke between the two of us no one else ever understood. Even when I explained other people didn't find it that funny, but that was OK with me. It was just something between me and him, and that was the way I liked it.


	21. banana blues

**sine virtus, sine laus **_latin_

no guts, no glory

* * *

So I went over to Grimmjow's house for dinner pretty regularly, since his dad invited me round almost every week. I enjoyed going there - each time, we'd eat something different that Grimmjow had made, always something I'd never had before, and just talk around the table. His dad was great, as crazy as mine, but in a more interesting way. The man was hilarious: the stories he told, they had me in stitches – stuff about peanut butter about in coffee at a business meeting, a car crashing into a brothel in Amsterdam, standing up and dancing the Macarena on a moving bus on a trip to China; he had such an interesting life, I don't think even Grimmjow knew about some of that shit.

When we finished dinner I would wash the dishes and Grimmjow would dry and put them away, and his dad would flit off somewhere secretively and leave us both on our own. Then we would watch a movie or play a long and violent game of cards, and I'd stay over in his room, but we wouldn't usually go to sleep until the early hours of the morning. There was always something to talk about or discuss: gossip at school, the latest updates on his giving up smoking, strange little stories either of us had heard and just wanted to share. Simple things. Things that didn't matter, like how many slices of toast I had for breakfast and why pink was such a hideous color or bits of gossip about people we both knew.

"So how's Abarai and Kuchiki getting on then?" he asked, one night. "They fucked yet?"

I groaned. "No, shut up! They're, like, dating and stuff, but it's so fucking complicated, see, 'cause Renji's the most possessive, jealousy-prone person I know and Rukia just _loves _to wind him up, and it leads to all sorts of ridiculous shenanigans. One day they're gonna end up killing each other, I know it. The whole thing's a disaster waiting to happen."

"What about Ishida and that chick with the huge jugs?"

"She has a name, you know."

"Busty McTitsforbrains?" He grinned at me, and I smacked him with a pillow.

"No, idiot! Inoue. She and Ishida…well, I dunno…" I hummed thoughtfully. "He was really, really into her at first but she – well, she liked me, and I didn't like her like _that,_ so she found him instead…and they ended up together, but, um…"

"But um what?"

"Doesn't seem like it's going all that well lately," I admitted. "I'm not telling you anything they told me, OK, because that's all a secret and I won't betray their trust or anything. But. Well…"

He peered down at me from his bed, blue eyes half-lidded. "Trouble in paradise?"

I crushed the urge to reach up and run my thumb over the perfect arch of his eyebrow. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Not a surprise," he said. "Not every relationship you have in high school is gonna end up with marriage and babies."

"I know. But it's kinda sad. They were good together."

Grimmjow pressed his lips together and scowled. "No point bein' depressed about it. We all gotta move on."

"Mmm." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Frowned. "Grimmjow."

"Yeah."

"'S cold. Close the window."

"Get off your lazy ass and do it yourself."

I picked something from the floor and threw it at his head. It was a book. Paperback, thankfully.

"Ow!" He launched it back but it missed, barely. "That fucking hurt, you ass."

"That's what ya get._ I'm_ the guest here, you need to attend to my every whim and fancy."

"Like fuck I do. My house, my rules."

That's what it was like, our relationship. Like a tennis match, always throwing something back and forth. It was a mixture of everything else I had with my friends: exchanging barbs with Ishida, telling jokes with Renji, rough-housing with Ikkaku – Grimmjow was all of my friends in one. But he was something more, at the same time.

My feelings – it's hard to explain everything. See, I didn't understand how it could come so late, this realization. Grimmjow knew how he felt when he was eleven years old, other people knew when they were younger, some had always known. I thought to myself, if I was gay, then I really should've known about it before _this_ happened.

I spent sleepless nights tossing and turning in bed, wondering if I should tell him. If I should tell _anyone_. Reasons why, and reasons why not.

With time, it got better. I could admit it to myself. I could think about it without wanting to sink through the ground. I didn't tell anybody, but not because I was _ashamed _or anything. If my friends had liked him, I would have told them. If I was sure he liked me back, I would have told him. If I was_ secure_ in my sexuality, I would've told everyone. But I wasn't, so I didn't. I didn't know what I _was: _sometimes I saw a hot girl and my mouth would go dry. I might see a guy checking me out and be flattered instead of disgusted. It confused me – was I straight or not?

It was either or. For some reason, bisexuality never came up. No one ever really talks about it. Straight people kissing someone of the same sex for attention, gay people kissing someone of the opposite sex so they can seem straighter; that's what it seems like, to most people. In my experience (and I've had a lot) bi people get a lot of shit, just 'cuz they're seen as _greedy,_ or like they can't make their minds up.

In any case, I never told anyone that I saw Grimmjow or that I went to his place so often – I didn't think my friends knew that I saw him so regularly. I don't know why I kept it such a secret. I think the weird looks my family gave me whenever I mentioned his name was enough. To be honest, I liked that no one else knew. It was like something special, some kind of secret that only we shared.

But of course, it couldn't have been kept quiet for too long.

_**

* * *

It's the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter.**_** ~ Marlene Dietrich**

* * *

It was Rukia and Nell who worked things out first. They knew me far too well and they could tell that I was hiding something from them. It kind of just boiled over on a weekend: I was just heading back home after going grocery shopping for Yuzu and I was ambushed as I turned the corner onto my street.

"Well well well. If it isn't Kurosaki Ichigo."

Two women were in front of me, one short and one tall, dressed in black and facing me with their arms crossed. I raised an eyebrow and nodded; I couldn't wave since I was holding grocery bags in both my hands.

"Hey," I said. "I know it's you. You don't have to wear a mask."

"Ichigo, don't ruin it," the short woman said irritably, standing beside her. "Just humor us please."

"Rukia, why are you dressed as ninjas?"

"This is a mission of the utmost secrecy," she said gravely, "and you're at the very center of it, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Me? Why me-argh! Nell! What was that for?"

The bags dropped to the floor. She'd twisted my arm behind her back – it was a move she was especially good at. At least she was apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

"Yeah. Augh, please don't tell me the eggs broke, Yuzu needed them."

"We'll buy you new ones," said Rukia. "Right now though, we have to talk."

"You could've just asked," I said. "Can you pick those bags up? I don't go shopping for fun, you know, that's a whole week's worth of food in there."

"Sure. Sorry about the eggs."

"Don't worry about it. As long as you compensate me."

We got home and they marched me to my room and locked the door behind him, pulling off their ridiculous ninja masks. I sat on my bed and watched them scowl at me.

"Well? What is it?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," said Rukia. "Only the fact that a little bird-"

"That would be me," Nell said.

"Thanks, Nell. Anyway, I've been told recently that you and a certain blue-haired punk have been seeing a lot of each other recently. Sleepovers at his house, meetings by the river…it's all very suspicious. You'd almost think you two were getting _closer."_

I rolled my eyes. "You do know this has been going on for a while now? I coulda told you that stuff myself. So what's the problem?"

They looked at each other. Rukia seemed like she was holding herself in from doing something very loud and painful, her lips pursed and her toe tapping the floor frantically. Nell just sighed.

"Um," she said. "Ichigo, you know that Grimmjow's gay, right?"

"I think the entire East coast of Japan knows that by now."

"So you know that…you know that you two hanging out so much could be taken the wrong way, don't you? Especially since…"

They were both looking at me with big, meaningful eyes. I didn't like the way Nell hesitated, and I frowned at her. "What?"

"Well," said Rukia. "Since…Grimmjow's…you know…"

"No, I don't know."

"You _have_ to have seen it!" Nell exploded. "He's completely in love with you!"

My window was open. I could hear the muted sounds of cars rushing past, kids playing on the sidewalk, birds tweeting. I sat on my bed, as still as a statue, staring at those two insane women with my mouth hanging open and my brain completely having been short-circuited.

Me: "I…well…uh…I…what?"

Rukia: "Why did you have to do that? You killed his brain."

Nell: "Honestly, it wouldn't be hard. There's not much going on in there."

"What the fuck are you two talking about?" I croaked. "Wha…you don't…he…he can't…"

"He is, though," said Nell. "You haven't seen it?"

"No!"

"Then you're more of a retard than I originally thought," Rukia said flatly. "But that's not the problem here. The problem is, what are you going to do about it?"

I didn't know what she was talking about. I was still reeling. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't. Grimmjow? In love? Grimmjow was in love? With me? _Me?_

Crazy. Insane. They'd lost their minds. There was no way. There was absolutely no way-

"Ichigo, let's not be stupid here," said Rukia. "I know it's bound to be a shock and all, it'll take some getting used to, and so on so forth, but you've let it go on long enough. It's quite depressing, you leading him on like this."

"I don't…I haven't led him on! I didn't even know-"

"How can you not know? It's obvious. You're practically the only person he talks to, you're the only person he's even civil or decent to, he tries to impress you and make you laugh all the time, and the way he looks at you – Ichigo, you have to have seen it!"

"But I'm-"

"Phenomenally stupid, yes. I don't like it. It's like Inoue all over again."

I stood up, angry. "Hey, this is _nothing _like that! For one, I actually – well, I-"

Nell peered at me. "You what?"

I turned red and started stammering. "Well, well, I-I…you know, I…you know!"

"Er, I think you'll find we don't," sighed Rukia. "You're making absolutely no sense, Ichigo."

I swallowed, sitting down heavily on my bed. Thought about it. Yeah, I was making no sense – this was all so fucking _sudden,_ a bolt from the sky hitting me square on the head and turning my whole world upside down. I needed time. I needed space. I needed to adjust to this…_insane _statement. And that meant, of course, that Rukia and Nell wouldn't stop hounding me until the eve of the Apocalypse.

It was a sign, then. An omen. This was the moment. I'd have to tell them. I'd waited long enough. The confession was almost fighting to escape.

"I don't really know what to do about it, but…" I said, gathering all my strength. It was all right. I was a man. I was _a strong, manly man._ I could do this. I cleared my throat and closed my eyes – eye contact wasn't conducive for successful confessions, not when they were staring at me so unnervingly.

I took a deep breath. Counted to three. Steeled myself.

"But I…I don't mind him liking me," I said, hoping that my voice wasn't shaking. "I…I…Ikindoflikehimtoo."

I slit open an eye. They were still staring.

"Well?" I demanded. My voice kinda cracked at the end, but I ignored that.

They took a moment to decode the gibberish. Nell got there quicker. She started beaming and squealing at me, then threw herself around my neck and squeezed so hard I thought I'd pass out.

"This is so amazing! You two are so good together!" she shrieked.

"Um-"

"When are you gonna tell him?"

"I-"

"Nell, let him breathe," said Rukia. She regarded me calmly. "So. You like him too, huh?"

I felt my face heating up. "Y-yeah."

"And not in a platonic way. In a _romantic_ way."

I gurgled an affirmative, burying my face in my arms. Nell patted my head, laughing.

"How long has this been going on?" Rukia asked. Her eyes widened. "You two aren't already…you're not together already, are you?"

"No!" I yelled, head shooting up. "No, we're not. I…well…maybe this…feeling…maybe a few months? A year? Fuck, I don't know-"

"A _year?"_ she gasped. "How come you didn't tell us?"

"It's not something you just bring up in everyday conversation! I can't just discuss the weather then say, _hey guys, guess what? I think I'm gay! And you know what? It's for Grimmjow!" _I stood up, started pacing back and forth. "It's just…I mean…it was too weird. I didn't know I could…_like_ him like that. It's not a problem or anything, really, just…argh, I dunno…"

"It's hard, liking someone if you don't know that they reciprocate," Nell said in an understanding voice, putting her hand on my shoulder. "But now, you know he likes you."

"He doesn't just_ like _you, though," interrupted Rukia, waggling her eyebrows. "I don't know if anyone else can see it, but I can. Nell knows him better than anyone – except maybe you, of course haha – and I, well, I have some experience in these things, what with my manga…"

They sat down on either side of me and started cooing about how cute it was, how we looked so good together, how I was perfect for him and vice versa. You would have expected me to start freaking out. But I was very calm. I surprised even myself.

The rest of what Rukia was trying to say faded into nothing. I couldn't hear anything apart from those words echoing in my head. I kept on replaying it in my mind, kept on repeating those words until they became gibberish and lost all meaning. I just could not believe it. There was still a little doubt. Grimmjow supposedly was in love with me. _Me._

But I didn't mind at all. This wasn't like Inoue. I couldn't handle _her_ being in love with me. She was too much of a little sister. But Grimmjow – he wasn't a _brother,_ he'd never been anything like that. He'd changed from 'enemy' to 'annoyance' to 'friend', and now – now, he was something I'd never come across before. He was a guy that I actually had feelings for, feelings that went _beyond _friendship.

That sort of thing was not what I was used to. I'd been scared, for a few days, when I first realized what my feelings for him really were. Angry, confused, and frustrated too.

But I thought about it. Really, nothing I was going to could compare to what Grimmjow had. The feelings of being a freak, of being unnatural, of being alone; I had none of that. I guess you could say that I accepted it – well, it wasn't quick. It took months, but after a while I became OK with it. I just…hadn't told anyone yet.

"Do you mind being loved, Ichigo?" Nell asked all of a sudden, looking at me very seriously.

"No," I said. "I don't. It's…I like it."

They grinned, almost at the same time. Creepy.

"Sooo," Rukia said. "Do you think that you could, with time, grow to…oh, I don't know…love him back?"

I swallowed, looking away and turning red _again._ I'd given quite a lot of thought to that, lying in bed at night, sleepless, restless, so I knew how to answer. Frankly, looking back, I was probably halfway there already. But I just said, "I...I don't know. Maybe. But not…not now, I need to-"

"Adjust," said Nell.

"Yeah."

"What do you like about him?" Rukia probed, eyes alight with curiosity.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer it!"

What did I like about him. Hmm. What _did_ I like about him?

"He's uh, funny," I said, hesitating. "He makes me laugh, even when I'm pissed at him. And he…he…he's good at cooking. He's really smart, in a lot of ways. Um. I like his hair. And his eyes. They're…they're pretty. A nice color."

"You're blushing!" laughed Nell.

"Shut up, you want me to finish or not?"

She grinned. "There's more?"

I thought hard, trying not to smile goofily by putting a finger in my mouth and trying to bite down on it while talking at the same time. "He's…not like anyone else I know. He's not afraid of anything. He doesn't care what people think about him, and he doesn't change to please anyone else. He's reckless and so, _so_ stupid, but in a good way, you know? Like, not always careful about what he says or does, but I like that. And…we just, get along well. I can talk to him about pretty much anything, and he won't judge me. Plus…"

"Do you think he's hot?" asked Rukia.

I thought I would spontaneously combust with embarrassment. "I…I…yeah."

She started snickering. "It's OK to think that a guy's good-looking, you know. And I can't blame you, I can't stand Grimmjow but even_ I_ can admit he's easy on the eyes."

"If you can't stand him then why are you here talking to me about this?"

"That was my idea," said Nell. "I wanted to have this discussion. I only brought Rukia along since I knew she scared you."

"She doesn't_ scare_ me-!"

She waved a hand, cutting me off. "Listen Ichigo, I've known Grimmjow since he was a kid, and I like to think I know him pretty well. He's always been a loner. I know his parents used to worry about him a lot, especially since they split up. But since you've turned up, he's changed. He's still a rude pain in the ass, but…I think…" She paused and smiled at me. "I think he's much happier now, having you. I just wanted you to know that. And I needed to know if you felt the same way."

It was food for thought. I sat there on my bed, staring into space, knowing that my life had been shaken up by just a few words. I didn't know what to do next.

"Are you going to tell him?" It was Rukia.

"Tell him? Oh, I dunno-"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" she demanded. "You _have_ to tell him! You can't string him along like this!"

It was hopeless. "I know that, but-"

"Ichigo, how many months are there left until we leave school?"

"Um, two or three? What does that have to do with it?"

"Think about it, if you don't tell him now you might never tell him. And who knows what might occur? This could be the best thing that ever happens to you!" She had stood up, was so passionate her slate-gray eyes were spitting sparks and her arms were wind-milling about and threatening to hit me. "He might be the love of your life! If you don't tell him, you'll always regret it."

"This isn't some stupid manga, Rukia," I snapped. "I can't – this is just high school. It's not like this sort of relationship always works out and you stay together forever and ever."

"But you don't know that. You don't know the future. It could happen for you."

I thought of Aizen, and what Grimmjow did for him. "I doubt that."

"Why?"

"It's complicated. And no I'm not telling you, that's Grimmjow's business, you'd have to ask him."

"But-"

"Listen, you guys," I stood up and sighed. "It's getting late. I'm hungry. There's been a fuck-ton of revelations dumped on me at the one time. I'm tired. I need to think, then study, then sleep."

"Then call Grimmjow in the morning and profess your undying love," said Nell.

"Shut up and go home, already," I told them, forcing them out the door. I watched from the window as they walked away from the house, then fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling for at least an hour, my thoughts jumping around, fragmented. I still couldn't get my head round what they'd told me. It was simply incomprehensible.

I don't think I slept at all that night. Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face, heard his voice, could feel his hands travelling over me; memories of the dreams I'd had about him surfaced then, and I knew I was blushing. Grimmjow could always make me blush like no one else, and I should have hated it. But I didn't.

Sleep never came and I gave up. For about two or three hours, I paced back and forth in my room, biting at my fingernails, thoughts spinning in my head like a cyclone. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard my cell phone vibrating on my desk, it sounded so loud in the complete silence. I didn't know who could be texting me that late, but I had my hopes.

_yo,_ it said_, im_ _bored. cant sleep._

My heart jumped. It was Grimmjow. Of course. I smiled despite myself.

My reply: _What do you expect me to do about it?_

_come over + entertain me_

_It's two in the morning._

_yeah so? stay over. dad wont mind._

_But mine will. Forget it._

_stop punctuating. goddamn. _

Then,

…_ps you know you want to. dont even deny it kurosaki_

This time I laughed and pressed the phone up to my forehead, like I could hear his voice if I just tried hard enough.

Fuck. I was so stupid. This was stupid.

_Yeah, OK, fine. See you there._

He didn't reply. He didn't have to. I could just imagine him smirking at the screen. It was ridiculous, how easily I crumbled when it came to him.

I stopped dead, and closed my eyes. Was this it? Was this a sign? Should I tell him now?

It was cold outside. I had to wear at least four layers. I pulled them on without thinking about it and opened my door, ready to put a note up so my family knew where I was going and there she was, Karin I mean, standing in front of me, arms crossed and legs planted apart. Her face was thunderous.

"Ichi-nii, where're you going?"

"What the hell Karin, what are you doing up so late?" I said, scowling at her.

"I couldn't sleep with you pacing around like that," she snapped. "And don't avoid my question. I saw Nell and Rukia here a few hours ago. I heard everything they said."

My mouth fell open. I tried to collect my wits, but I was too slow and before I knew it Karin had grabbed my shoulders and was shaking me back and forth, almost screaming in my face.

"You are such a retard! A moron! An idiot! There aren't words for how fucking _stupid _you are, you know that?"

"Karin!" I hissed. "What the hell-"

"He's liked you since _forever," _she said heatedly, "and you just cruise through your life, playing little games and flirting with him and then being too scared to say a thing. That's a really shit thing to do, Ichi-nii."

"Karin, don't _swear!"_ Yuzu was still asleep. We had to keep it quiet.

"This isn't about me swearing," Karin seethed, eyes spitting sparks. "Don't pretend you're completely ignorant. You're not. You knew he liked you. You knew it."

"No I-"

She slapped me. Hard. My cheek stung and I raised my hand to touch it, completely and utterly stunned. I was speechless.

"Seriously, Ichi-nii. You need to go and tell him that you like him, and you need to tell him _now."_

"…You slapped me!" My _baby sister_ had just _slapped_ me.

What. The. Fuck.

"It's for your own good," she said firmly. Her eyes were still blazing. "Me and dad and Yuzu have been watching you two and waiting for _months_. I've had enough. It's not funny anymore. It's just cruel. And none of us care that he's a guy, by the way. That doesn't mean a thing. Just…"

Karin closed her dark eyes and sighed deeply, once, twice, three times, calming herself down. When she opened her eyes she smiled at me, and it was the gentlest expression I'd seen on her face for a long while.

"He makes you happy, Ichi-nii. And you make him happy. It's just not fair that you're both dancing around each other like this. I don't want to see it anymore."

"My face still hurts," I said numbly. "You didn't have to_ slap_ me."

"Oh, suck it up." She punched my arm playfully, and I to stop myself from wincing. When the hell had she gotten that upper-body strength?

"Onii-chan?" Yuzu stuck her head out from the open door of her bedroom, startling us. Her eyes were half-closed and her hair was mussed up from sleep. "Karin-chan? What's going on?"

"Ichi-nii's gonna go to Grimmjow's house and tell him that he likes him," Karin said.

"Karin!"

"_Finally,"_ Yuzu said, shooting me a dark look. "About time, onii-chan."

I spluttered, "What…you…does…does everyone _know?"_

She hummed thoughtfully. "If by everyone you mean dad and me and Karin-chan and Yoruichi-neesan and Kisuke-niisan-"

"I get it, Yuzu." Oh my god. My whole family knew. And our family friends. My dad knew. Oh my god. Was everyone else aware of this? Was the _whole of the goddamned town_ aware of this? Had I been_ that_ obvious?

"I…"

"This isn't the time to stand around and take root," Karin said crossly. "You need to get your ass in gear and confess already!"

She took a hold of my arm and literally hauled me down stairs. She flung open the front door and pushed me out, and then she kicked me for good measure. Square in the back. I almost fell flat on my face; Karin was a lot stronger than she'd been a few years ago.

"Get over there, Ichi-nii!" she yelled, blocking the door so I couldn't get back in. "Run!"

Her black eyes shone with some unnatural fire, and at the sight of them I ran. I ran so fast the streets passed by in a blur and my legs felt heavy and light at the same time, so fast my lungs felt like they were made of sandpaper, my eyes were stinging, my nose red with the cold, I'd never run so fast in my life.

Everything everyone had ever said – my sister, Renji, Nell – fuck, even Grimmjow's _dad-_

"_Are you two dating or something?"_

"_He needs someone like you. I've noticed he's a lot…happier these days."_

"_People have been saying that Grimmjow's, um, interested. In you."_

And those words, echoing inside my head, over and over and over._  
_

"_He's completely in love with you!"_

How could I have been so fucking stupid?

Karin was right. Nell was right. They'd been so incredibly right, I was a dumbass, a retard, moron. Shit. I had to tell him. I _had _to.

My nose was freezing. By the time I reached his place I was sure it was gonna fall off. I'd almost slipped and fallen on my ass half a dozen times. I didn't do well with cold, and I was half-regretting that I wasn't still in my warm bed, even though I knew fine well I wouldn't have slept a wink if I'd stayed.

When Grimmjow opened the door my ears were almost falling off because of the cold. His place was always warm, even though it was so huge, and I thought about how much the heating would have cost. His family really did have money to burn.

"Kurosaki, what took you so damn long?"

I didn't say anything back. I was too busy staring at him. He'd always been attractive. Maybe the cold was messing up my head, but now he looked…gorgeous. Good enough to eat. His hair was a mess and hanging in his eyes, his shirt and jeans were rumpled, and it looked like he'd just stumbled out of a hedge but I didn't give a shit. Rukia and Nell's words came back to me and started buzzing in my ears.

_-completely in love with you-_

_-in love with you-_

_-in love in love in love-_

But Grimmjow was staring at me like he always did, eyebrow tilted, lips curved in an almost-sneer. He didn't _look _like he was completely in love with me. He didn't even look like he liked me all that much, if I had to be completely honest.

"I…"

"What?" he said, eyebrow cocked. His tone made me want to wilt, but I straightened my back. No way in hell he was gonna intimidate me, not now. "Oi, what is it?"

I licked my lips. My mouth had gone dry. "Nothing. Sorry. I…why'd you call me here anyway?"

He shrugged. "No reason. I told you, I was bored."

Doubt started to thread through me. That certainty, that resolution; it had been like a fire, but now it was extinguished. I could only stand there with my mouth open, feeling like a fool. Maybe I'd been wrong about the whole thing, maybe I should just turn around and go back home-

Grimmjow's expression gentled, just the tiniest amount. Something warm glimmered in his eyes for a split second as he flicked the end of my red, numb nose. "Cold outside, huh?"

"Yeah…" I found it hard to breathe. His fingertip went to rest lightly on my bottom lip.

The sneer melted. Those fine, light-blue eyebrows relaxed. His thin lips settled into a crooked half-smile and I found the corners of my mouth quirking up, because whenever he smiled at me like that I couldn't feel the cold.

I looked at his face, and I wanted him so much it hurt.

A sharp blast of wind cut right through me. It was like it blew the cobwebs away from my mind, cleared my head, cut away all the insecurities and self-pity and the brooding. Everything was clear, I had my resolve and I held it tightly, not willing to let go an inch in case it disappeared.

That was it. I'd had enough of it. I didn't care anymore.

"Whatcha starin' at?" he asked, the tiny smile still on his face.

"Grimmjow," I said in a careful voice, "can we go talk?"

He gave me a weird look and let me in, and after I'd taken my shoes and jacket off we went straight to his bedroom. My heart was palpitating so violently I thought I'd collapse.

Grimmjow went in first, and when he flopped back onto his bed, I just closed the door, locked it, and turned around to face him with my back pressed against it. There. I couldn't escape now.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

I really should have gotten drunk before doing this. But fuck.

Here goes nothing.


	22. confession

_If you be my star__  
I'll be your sky  
you can hide underneath me and come out at night  
when I turn jet black and you show off your light  
I live to let you shine_

_but you can skyrocket away from me  
and never come back if you find another galaxy  
far from here with more room to fly  
just leave me your stardust to remember you by_

_if you be my boat  
I'll be your sea  
a depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity  
ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze  
I live to make you free_

_but you can set sail to the west if you want to  
and past the horizon till I can't even see you  
far from here where the beaches are wide  
just leave me your wake to remember you by_

_if you be my star  
I'll be your sky  
you can hide underneath me and come out at night  
when I turn jet black and you show off your light  
I live to let you shine_

_but you can skyrocket away from me  
and never come back if you find another galaxy  
far from here with more room to fly  
just leave me your stardust to remember you by  
stardust to remember you by_

**_Boats and Birds ~_ Gregory and the Hawk**

* * *

I'll admit, I hadn't really called him over for any reason. I just wanted to see him.

That sounds really goddamn sappy and I felt goddamn stupid about it, but when he texted back saying he was coming over that feeling of stupidity changed into the feeling of my insides having vanished. He always made me feel like that. I'd even cleaned my fucking room. Kurosaki was so fucking anal about _cleanliness._

Almost instantly after he'd told me that he would come over, I started waiting for him by the front door. It was pathetic, I know, and I needed to get a fucking grip, grow the fuck up and get over this stupid thing. But I kept on reading, re-reading that little message, and every time the knot in my stomach would get bigger.

I hadn't actually expected Kurosaki to give in. He usually wouldn't have. The thought vaguely crossed my mind that something must've happened – like, something big enough to make him give into me when usually he never ever did.

He arrived at the door in record time, but it seemed like a millennium to me. His face was flushed, his eyes were bright, and his chest was heaving. He'd run. I felt my ego swelling at the thought, but that slipped a little as I looked at him carefully. He looked preoccupied. Not worried, just…like he was thinking really deeply about something important. He looked more awake than he should have at two in the morning.

I touched his nose. It was so red. It was…it was cold, too. His hair was sticking up all over the place like he'd run his hands through it a million times, his eyes were all bright and sparkly and his nose and cheeks and ears were bright red, and he was looking at me, breathing heavily, the most beautiful thing in the world.

Seriously, fuck. I've never wanted_ anything_ more in my life.

Then he smiled at me and everything in my body just _tightened._ I tried to think of my dad in a thong to kill the sensation. A foolproof plan.

"Grimmjow…can we go talk?"

As soon as he said the words I was getting all jittery. But I led him up to my room anyway, without saying a word. He locked the door the moment he stepped in. I didn't show any surprise - just sat there on my bed, just watched him. He was anxious about something, I could tell. I rolled my eyes. Why'd he always bottle things up like this? It wasn't healthy.

"Well?" I said. "Whatever's bugging you, spit it out already."

Kurosaki pressed his back against the door, staring at the carpet. He ran his hands through his hair, heaved a sigh, and looked me in the eye, face white.

"So," he said. "I have a dilemma."

"Yeah?"

Kurosaki swallowed thickly, started avoiding my gaze. He said, "This…this dilemma. Well. It's because of this…person…I know."

"Right."

"I…OK, so…so this person is someone I've known for years, and I know them pretty well, I like to think. We didn't really get along at first, but we got to be friends, yeah?" He paused, then started pacing back and forth, fingers playing with the belt-loops on his jeans. "And I've…um, I've been developing these…feelings. You know."

"Emotions. I know 'em." My voice was dark. I didn't like what he was implying.

He kept stopping and starting at first but soon the words were flooding out like he'd wanted to say them a while. "For almost a year, I think. I didn't know what it was at first, see, because I'd never felt anything like it for a…for someone like them. So I ignored it…I-I repressed it. For a long time. Then I realized what it was, I don't know when or how or whatever, it was kind of like a complete surprise, you know? And I hid it 'cause I was afraid. Of lots of things."

Kurosaki came and sat down next to me on the bed, staring at the floor for a while then turning to look earnestly into my eyes. "I wasn't_ ashamed _of what I was feeling, not after I thought about it. But I…it was just a complicated situation. I kept on lying to myself. But recently, someone slapped some sense into me, pretty literally, and I…well, I decided, fuck it, I was tired of hiding and lying and generally being really, really stupid. I…"

He didn't need to say it. I knew that expression, that tone of voice, that desperation in his eyes. I could feel my expression getting blacker, fierce, hot jealousy flaring up inside me, "You like them."

Kurosaki blinked. A small smile crossed his lips, and he said, "I…yeah. Yeah, I do. A lot."

"As in, you _like_ them_." _

He looked at me meaningfully and nodded.

"OK." I said it through gritted teeth. "So what's the fucking problem?"

He hesitated. "There wasn't ever really a problem. I was just…too scared to say anything."

"You're such a _pussy,"_ I said. It came out harsher than I meant it to.

"I know. But like I said, it's complicated. I didn't know if they liked me back." Kurosaki rubbed his eyes, sighing. "I've always been bad at this sort of thing. But just now, someone told me that…someone told me that I might have a chance. And that kinda…galvanized me into action, I guess. Like a wake-up call. I mean, I don't think I can keep it a secret anymore, I_ really_ like them."

"What's so great about her?" I sneered.

The jealousy was burning hotter and hotter, spreading through my body. I wanted to _strangle_ this chick, whoever she was. I wanted to throw her into a meat-grinder. I wanted to twist her head off and use it as a fucking football. I clenched my fists so hard I thought the skin would break over the knuckles. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to kill Kurosaki. How fucking dare he?

Kurosaki smiled at me. "What's so great about _him?_ He makes me laugh. He's tough, and he doesn't take any shit. He's…really smart, smarter than he seems at first. He's reckless and hot-headed and he doesn't think about what he says or does and creates a lot of shitty situations for everyone, but I don't care because sometimes, he's the only person I feel I can talk to…" He cut himself off, turning pink around the ears, then gave an embarrassed laugh. "I could go on, but I already feel like enough of a sap."

It was like the breath had been knocked out of my body.

"Wait." I almost couldn't breathe. I almost couldn't talk. "Wait._ He?_ You… you like a _guy?"_

"That's right."

"But I thought you were _straight!"_

No. No, this couldn't be happening to me. The guy I've been into for almost a year turned out to be crushing on _another guy, _and it wasn't even me. Shit. Fuck_. No._

Fuck my life. I fucking hated it. God fucking hated me-

Kurosaki cocked his head to the side, looking so calm and contemplative I wanted to kill him. I thought bitterly, he probably wants to ask my advice on asking this asshole out on a date.

Fuck that shit.

"I thought I was straight, too, you know. But apparently not. I'm pretty sure I'm not _totally _gay, though…maybe bi?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Bisexuals don't exist, they're just greedy people who can't make up their mind!" I snapped, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Who the fuck is it? Is it Abarai? Fuck, I _knew_ there was something between you two, I'll fucking _kill _him-"

"It's not Renji," he said coolly, pulling my hand away but not letting go of it. "He's dating Rukia. There's nothing between me and him except friendship, OK Grimmjow? Calm down, no one needs to die. Come on, keep guessing."

"Is it a guy I know?"

"Very, very well."

I tried to think of all the men we both knew well that he could be attracted to. What I came up with sickened me. "It's not my _dad,_ is it?"

Kurosaki stared at me in disbelief for a moment, before bursting into laughter. _"What?_ No! It's not your dad! Oh my god, that's disgusting, how can you even _think_ that-!"

"Shut the fuck up, how could I know?" I grumbled. "Who the fucking hell is it?"

He shook his head, squeezing my hand. "Keep guessing. You're getting warmer."

"It's not my dad."

"Fuck no."

"Not Abarai."

"No."

My list ran out there. I had no idea who he could be talking about, and my patience was about to snap into a thousand tiny pieces. "Kurosaki, is this guy even gay?"

"Yes."

_That_ confused me. "I didn't know you had gay friends."

"I do," he said, looking straight at me, "but only one."

I frowned. "Only one gay friend? But _I'm _the only-"

I stopped. Kurosaki turned white, then red. He dropped my hand like it burned.

The fire inside me vanished completely. For a split-second I was empty of all feeling, and then – then, it was like…fuck, I can't even describe it. Just imagine all the clichés people use when they're in love, right – the butterflies, the intestines making knots, blah blah blah – just add them all together and times it by a million and maybe you'll get what I was feeling at that exact moment. I couldn't even talk. I just stared at him.

_Me?_

He took my silence as something bad, and started stuttering. "I know, like, I know that even though you're gay you probably won't like every single guy on the planet, but – but, um, Nell…

"Nelliel said I liked you?" Of course it would've been her. Nosy bitch. Jesus Christ, she just couldn't mind her own business, could she?

God fucking bless you, Nelliel.

"Yeah, it was Nell…" He froze at the expression on my face. "I…I didn't get it wrong, did I? Fuck-"

"Kurosaki, shut up."

He wouldn't though; his brown eyes were wide, panicking. "Shit, I'm sorry, this is really fucking awkward-"

For fuck's sake, he is such a fucking _retard._

I grabbed his collar again, pulled him close; his face was inches from mine and he shut up immediately. His eyes were still wide, his breathing was short and rapid and he looked like he wanted to run away. But there was no way in hell I'd let him.

"Let me get this straight," I said softly. "You like me."

At the sound of my voice, a flurry of emotions passed over his face in a millisecond. I could see a decision being made; then, he clenched his jaw. The fear disappeared and his expression became almost _defiant._ "So what if I do, asshole? What're ya gonna do about it?"

Relief flooded me. Good. This was the Kurosaki I knew – cocky, annoying, rude. That's what I wanted. I could deal with him.

I brought our faces closer and it was enough to make my heart race. This was getting ridiculous. But I wanted to hear it again, just to make sure. "You like _me?"_

"Yeah, stupid. Why is it that so hard to believe?"

"Dunno. Just…would never've thought it could happen."

"Heh, you think you're that unattractive?"

"Shut the fuck up, I meant I thought you were straight."

"Well, I'm not."

"It's still a little hard for me to swallow, OK dickhead? Gimme a second here."

Kurosaki just raised an eyebrow and moved so close I could feel the heat from his skin. He raised a hand and ran the fingertips down my cheek, and it honest-to-god made goosebumps rise up all over my fucking body. I felt like I'd been electrified. I could see the gold in his eyes more clearly, could count the freckles on his nose, could practically taste his lips already- shit they were so close, when did he move-

"I think you've had a second, by now," he murmured. "Maybe even more."

He was so close to me I think it fried my brain. I just gurgled something.

A smile twitched at Kurosaki's lips, and he put one hand at the back of my neck and the other around my waist, moving forward till he was just about sitting on my lap and pressing his forehead to mine. He felt so warm.

"Just to warn you, I'm not very good at this kissing thing. I haven't done much of it."

I cleared my throat, but my voice still came out all husky. "Ever heard the saying, practice makes perfect?"

"All the time."

"I'll make sure you get lots of practice," I breathed, just brushing my lips against his. They were dry and cracked, but really, who gave a shit about that? My whole fucking body just felt like it'd been electrified, in a really really _really _good way.

His voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it. "Grimmjow?"

"Mm?"

"I…I really like you."

I squeezed him tight, nuzzled into the crook of his neck because I didn't want him to see me all red and grinning stupidly like I was doing.

"Grimmjow," he whispered, "do you like me too?"

"I woulda thought that was pretty fucking obvious."

I moved back to press my forehead against his. My eyes were closed, but I could feel him smile against my lips and say, "Like I said, I'm a moron when it comes to shit like this."

One of his hands moved up and fisted in my hair, the other rubbing against the small of my back. I just wrapped my arms around him as tight as I could, feeling the warmth, how solid his muscles were, the softness of his hair - fuck I'd wanted this for so long and now, _now,_ I was almost afraid to take the next step-

Kurosaki initiated it. He was shy, just pressing his mouth to mine, slanting his lips and nipping softly at the skin, breath puffing out from his nose. My hands moved up and cupped his face – god, his skin was so soft, I bet he exfoliated. He really was such a faggot.

I couldn't believe I waited so long for this. Every touch was sending tingles ricocheting through my whole body, his warmth was filling me up – shit, everything about him was so _warm_, his skin, his hair, the look in his eyes when he stared at me, his lips –

Fuck. He was kissing me. Kurosaki was _kissing _me, hands running all over me, pressed so close and so tight it felt like he was part of me.

This was what I'd been missing out on.

Why the fuck hadn't I told him before? This was so goddamn exhilarating. If I'd died then, I was sure I would have died a happy man.

For all that he said he wasn't a good kisser, Kurosaki managed to get me pretty breathless. He clung so tightly to me, like he was afraid I'd disappear; I pushed him back onto the bed, my lips never leaving his, just moving slowly and sweetly, his skin burning underneath my fingertips, his hands moving everywhere – through my hair, over my arms and neck, pulling up my shirt and ghosting over the skin of my back. His hands were freezing. God, it got me so hard.

His lips parted and his tongue slid against mine. He moaned into my mouth, and I pressed him hard into the mattress, just kissing him deeper and deeper until I didn't even have any comprehension of time passing. We could've stayed there for minutes, or hours. I don't fucking know. I don't even care.

Even when we stopped kissing, we just kind of lay there, breathing heavily. We'd been rolling around on the bed and now Kurosaki was on top of me, and I was realizing how fucking heavy he was. But it was comfortable, somehow. And I didn't want him to move away, so I pulled him to me and held on tight.

His heart was racing. I could feel it. His fingers were tangled in my hair, his nose pressed against my neck, and it all felt so right. Like he'd been _made _for me.

All of a sudden, I felt exhausted. My eyes were drooping shut. All this shock, it tired a man out.

I was just about to fall asleep when he poked me hard in the side. I heard his voice, quiet and annoyed.

"Grimmjow. Don't fall asleep, idiot, we need to talk about this."

I grunted and poked him back. "No, sleep now. Tired."

"But-"

"Kurosaki, morning is for talking. _Sleep."_

He grumbled and whined, but shifted closer to me anyway, resting his head next to mine. He was still wearing his normal clothes, and so was I, but neither of us could be assed getting up and changing into pajamas. I just pulled the sheets over us and pulled him closer. I buried my nose in his soft, sweet-smelling hair, breathing deeply. I felt his lips, touching against my neck, at the place where my pulse was beating, and I crushed him closer.

In, out, in, out. His breathing fell into sync with mine. The scent of him filled me up. I can't remember going to sleep ever feeling as happy.

_**

* * *

Kissing is like drinking salted water. You drink, and your thirst increases.**_** ~ Chinese Proverb**

* * *

I lay there for a while as Grimmjow fell asleep beside me. For once, I was in his bed with him. It was tiny and cramped but it seemed like the natural progression of things; the feeling of his pulse under my lips, his cold hands sliding up my back under my shirt, legs tangled with mine. There was nothing weird about this.

His smell. I couldn't ever define it properly. You never can, with smells. There's never words to describe the scent that floats in the air after rain's fallen, or the smell of a blue-skied summer's day. Grimmjow's smell was kind of dark and musky: the shadow of an expensive aftershave, cigarettes, some herb he used when he made pasta. Basil, I think. Those, and a thousand other things I couldn't put a name to. It all combined to make up _him._ The most comforting smell in the whole world.

That smell, and his voice. If I had my eyes closed, I would be able to tell that it was him, just from one of those things. I could never mistake them.

I placed my head in that convenient and comfortable place where his neck joined his shoulder. His chest rumbled with snores. The first few times I slept over, I could hardly get to sleep because of them and once I tried to stuff a pillow over his face to shut up him. It didn't go down very well with him (I think he threatened to rip off my balls and make me eat them or something similarly violent) so I just had to put up with it.

The weird thing about things like that, though, is that you get used to them pretty quickly. Just now, if Grimmjow wasn't snoring loud enough to wake the dead, I wouldn't be able to get to sleep. Nights were too quiet without him.

It was almost incredible, how amazingly content I felt at that moment. Not even an hour ago and I was a mess of nerves. Thinking, I was an idiot. I shouldn't have done this. Maybe everyone was wrong, maybe my instincts were wrong and I should've thought about this before I just rushed into it headfirst like I did with almost everything else. Maybe I shouldn't be telling this to him at all.

I thought he'd laugh. Or stare at me, confused, then pitying. Awkward. And I would've ruined _everything _we had.

But no. He felt the same way, and I thought my heart would literally burst with happiness, even though Grimmjow hadn't actually said the words out loud. _I like you, Ichigo._

Or Kurosaki. He never called me Ichigo. I wondered why, when I had always called him Grimmjow. Even when I hated his guts, he was always_ Grimmjow_ to me. Not _Jaegerjaques,_ like he was to other people.

Mostly, it was because Grimmjow was an easier name to spit out in a rage than Jaegerjaques.

Just a few years ago, we'd wanted to kill each other. He was so deep into his drug abuse he'd almost died, and I had saved his life. And the fights we'd shared, the food, the time we spent together. How it had all spiraled into something I could never have seen. I would never have thought it possible.

I stared at his face; slack, relaxed in sleep. Hair falling across his forehead, a delicate blue in the dim light. He looked so much younger, more vulnerable and every time I saw him like this I just fell a little deeper.

I couldn't help from reaching out and stroking his face. One long movement, from his temple, down his cheekbone, over his lips. Those lips, which had been on mine not too long ago. I'd kissed those lips. I'd kissed him. Just thinking it had some warm, bubbly feeling sizzling up in the pit of my stomach, and I had to stop myself from squirming with happiness.

God, Ichigo, get a grip.

About ten or so minutes later I was falling asleep myself when Grimmjow muttered something under his breath and snorted softly. His face twitched and his eyebrows came down into a dark frown. I put my ear against his mouth to hear what he was saying.

"No…fucking asshole, you cook omelets over _low_ heat…!"

What the hell.

"Tch," he snarled in his sleep, shifting. "Go fuck your mother, I can live without lemongrass!"

I had to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud. Oh god.

Grimmjow, you stupid fucking weirdo. Never change.

_**

* * *

Love is being stupid together.**_** ~ Paul Valery**

* * *

It was my dad who found out first.

Goddamn.

I will _never forgive_ him for embarrassing me like that.

I was just waking up, feeling another warm body next to mine. When I opened my eyes I saw Kurosaki's face: he was still asleep, his frown gone and his mouth slightly open. He was drooling. For some reason, I wasn't disgusted.

I just stared at him, not able to tear my eyes away. As I watched, he twitched and started frowning. His eyes opened slowly, such a clear brown in the sunlight slanting across his face. I'd forgotten to close the curtains again.

"Is this a dream?"

I didn't know I'd spoken it aloud until Kurosaki smiled and said, "No."

"You drooled all over the place."

"Fuck, sorry." He blushed.

"It's nothing. G'morning."

"Morning." He smiled at me again and it sent heat spiraling up the pit of my stomach.

Who cared about morning breath?

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close, kissing him almost savagely. His response was just as fierce and he moved on top of me, kissing me so hard I was sure I'd get some bruises. I wrapped my legs around his and bucked my hips up. He was just as turned-on as I was, I could feel his hard cock press against my hip and it made me groan and attack his mouth even harder, moving my hands down to cup his ass and squeeze.

It was getting hotter and hotter, his hands moving lower, his tongue sliding down my neck, when the door burst open and my father came dancing in.

"Grimmjow, it's time for break- oh!"

I woulda shouted if Kurosaki hadn't gagged in shock and fallen off the bed, taking the sheets and me with him. I hit my head against his and thought I saw stars.

"I didn't see anything!" dad squealed, jumping back to hide behind the door and peeking out, grinning.

"Dad!" I roared, trying to hide under the sheets. "For fuck's sake, _knock before you come in!"_

"I did!" dad said, still looking gleeful. "But, ah, you didn't answer so I just…well, haha. Good morning, Ichigo-san, I didn't know you were here!"

"Um, good morning," Kurosaki said weakly, red-faced and desperately trying to cover himself as well. "Yeah, I, uh, got here really late. Uh. Uh. Sorry."

Dad's eyes glinted disturbingly. "Oh, it's no problem at all! I just wanted to say that breakfast is ready. Come down whenever you, um, feel like it."

"Yeah, sure," I growled. "Dad, get out of my room already."

"Of course," he said, a sly expression on his face as he backed out. Then he peeped out from behind the door again. "You two really took your time with this, didn't you? I was almost ready to push you into a locked cupboard somewhere."

"Dad, _get out."_

"And I hope my son was a gentle lover, Ichigo-san."

"_OUT!"_

Dad fled, cackling. I'd thrown a book at him, but it missed. No matter what I threw at anyone,_ it always missed. _What was with that? Was my aim that bad?

"Well, shit," Kurosaki said finally. He sighed and laid his head on the floor. "So, someone already knows."

"I hate that man."

"Could've been worse. Could've been _Nell."_ He shuddered. "Then it would've been all over the town by lunch."

"Urgh. True."

"Grimmjow, we need to talk."

Those four immortal words. I groaned.

"Fine, shoot."

"What is this?" Kurosaki asked, looking at me seriously. "Is it a relationship? Or…or something else?"

"What else could it be?"

"I dunno. But are…are we, like, together? Exclusively, I mean?"

I yawned. "Ain't it a bit early to be talking about this?"

He flushed angrily. "Listen, asshole-"

"I meant early in the morning, moron, not early in the relationship. Don't get pissy on me." I moved to him, my face hovering above his. I stared deep into his eyes, trying to be as threatening and creepy as possible, and said, "Of course we're together now. _Exclusively._ You're mine. I'll kill whoever else touches you."

Kurosaki sniffed, seeming appeased, but he still said, "Shut up, I'm not _yours."_

"Yes you are. You always have been." My voice came out a lot huskier than I'd intended but it also sounded kinda sexy so I forgave myself.

He thought about it. "Are you mine, then?"

"Have been for a long time."

"Oh."

"Mm, you're cute when you blush."

"Shut up."

There was a quiet rumble and he blushed even harder.

"Hungry, Kurosaki?"

"Shut up!"


	23. a kind of madness

**con·tent·ment **_noun_

the state of being contented; satisfaction; ease of mind.

* * *

The rest of that day, I stayed at Grimmjow's house. It was a Sunday, and we just lazed around and did absolutely nothing and I don't think I've ever been happier.

Well, we did do _some _stuff. As in, we messed around and kissed in his bedroom and we hung out and watched movies and then made out and ate and made out some more, played footsie under the dining table and cuddled on the sofa (yes we cuddled, but it was _hardcore) _and his dad would walk in and shoot us really gleeful looks, like he'd planned the whole thing anyway.

Which, now that I thought about it, he probably had.

And then the situation got – well, it was funny for me, at least. I always forgot how weird Grimmjow's dad could get sometimes. So there we were just chilling out and watching another movie since that was about all we did when we felt lazy, then all of a sudden there was this flash of light and we looked up, bewildered, to see that someone was hovering over us like a gigantic bat and taking close-up photos, grinning behind the camera.

Shock for one second, then-

"Holy shit, _what the hell are you doing!"_

Grimmjow leapt off the couch and lunged at his dad, who laughed like a crazy person and ran away.

That was only the start of it.

After that, almost all the time, he'd take random pictures of us. Eating. Sleeping in bed (sometimes he'd sneak in at night or in the morning before we were properly awake), watching a movie, coming in from a walk and taking our shoes off, talking, laughing, kissing, everything. _Everything. _

Like some kind of ninja. Except one that took photos. And didn't kill people.

Soon enough Grimmjow got that maddened look in his eye, like some kind of crazed animal being hunted. He'd check round corners to see if his dad was hiding there waiting to jump out, he'd lock doors and bar windows, always twitchy and preyed upon. It was hilarious.

I didn't mind it one bit (I secretly asked for some of the photos) but I dunno, Grimmjow was acting weird about it. He told me it was like he was being spied on, but by someone he'd never be able to catch and kill. I said, "Just tell your dad it bothers you and maybe he'll stop."

Grimmjow, stretched out next to me on his bed, gave me the most disgusted look. "You gotta be kiddin' me. You _know _my dad. He's fucking insane."

"He's not as bad as mine."

"No. He's worse."

That turned into a whole argument about whose dad was crazier, which then degenerated into a heated make-out session (don't ask me how the two were related, please) and just when Grimmjow was about to pull my shirt off and get to the good stuff, he stopped abruptly and sat straight up, nostrils flared, unearthly blue eyes bright and feverish.

"He's here," he breathed.

"You – what?" I glared up at him with hazy eyes, my shirt halfway up my chest. I tugged it down. "What the hell?"

"Shut up!" Grimmjow hissed, between his teeth. He got off the bed slowly and silently, then wrenched the door open. And there was his dad, holding a camera in one hand, the other stretched out to open the door. His face was priceless.

"_You,"_ snarled Grimmjow, the scariest look on his face. His dad looked at him, then beamed happily and held the camera up to his eye. A blinding flash and a furious roar later, and they'd both disappeared from the doorway. I could hear cackles echoing down the hall. A crash. A shout of "That vase was _expensive!"_ but after that…nothing.

I'll admit, I got kind of worried. When Grimmjow got mad, he tended to get...carried away. I doubted even his father could stand up to that phenomenal rage. I left the room and went down the hall, where I was treated to the sight of Grimmjow pounding on his dad's bedroom door, pulling on the handle and trying to yank it off, more furious than I'd seen him for a long time.

"You asshole!" he roared. "Get the hell out here _right now!"_

"You'll only hurt me!" his dad squeaked.

"Damn right I will! _OUT! NOW!"_

"I refuse!"

"Hey, don't you think you're overreacting?" I said. "It's just a bunch of pictures."

"He's violating my fucking privacy and being a creepy stalker, so no, I'm not overreacting!" he snapped at me.

"Yes you are!" his dad said. "Listen to Ichigo-san! He speaks sense! And stop swearing, it's not nice!"

"Grimmjow, c'mon. He'll get bored of it. Just don't pay him any attention, that's all."

"But-"

"Oi, calm down." I took his arm and gently led him away, trying to soothe him like you'd calm an angry animal. "Look, you're getting worked up over nothing. He'll get over it in a while. He probably just wants to be a photographer or something. It'll pass, like all of his other phases."

"No it won't!" his dad said indignantly, cracking the door open a little and glaring at us through it. "I mean it this time! I'm serious!"

"You were serious about the painting, too," I said, "and the interior design, and the bonsai trees, and the cookery classes-"

"Thank fuck _they _didn't last long," said Grimmjow. "I don't ever want anyone else in my kitchen."

"You two don't take me seriously!" his dad cried. "No one ever does! I shall languish here, unappreciated and –"

"Untalented," said Grimmjow.

"Yes – no!" He sobbed. "My own son, a traitor! A critic! Oh how the gods have punished me, what have I done to deserve this…!"

And so on, so forth. We were both used to this sort of thing.

"OK, I'm bored now," Grimmjow said.

"Yeah, me too," I said.

We looked at each other and grinned, and there was another click and flash of light, and the cycle began again. Violence, threats, tears, me standing at the side, crossing my arms and watching the show, not knowing whether to be amused or worried about my boyfriend's obviously very unstable temper.

And then I realized I'd thought of him as my _boyfriend,_ and my heart literally started tingling. It was the weirdest thing. But it was nice, too. Like, he was my boyfriend. My _boyfriend._

Oh man, it was weird._  
_

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd never even had a real _girl_friend before, so the thought of me having a boyfriend was just…unbelievable. I mean, me. Having a boyfriend. Having a relationship with a guy. _Grimmjow,_ of all the motherfucking men on the planet. A guy I'd hated intensely just two or three years ago. And now, he was my boyfriend.

The thought crossed my mind that I needed to, you know, tell people about it, but I still skittered away from that situation. For a number of reasons. First of all, I didn't know how my friends would react for sure, but I could make educated guesses: Rukia and Nell would be over the moon, Renji would be disgusted at the fact that it was _Grimmjow_, of all people, that I could've liked - but everyone else…

The thing is, I knew that my friends would all be fine with it. It was just the thought of telling them that made my stomach curl up into a tiny little microscopic ball. I mean, Yumichika – he wasn't exactly _gay_, more like he'd find a person beautiful enough for his tastes and use them for money and free expensive food until he got bored of them – he'd been open about dating guys since we all went to the Shinigami Academy. Most of us didn't give it a second thought. It was kind of obvious, really. But still. Would they care if it was _me?_ Would they react differently? Or would they be weirded out and shun me?

I figured I'd just have to wait and see. I didn't want to just blurt it out and have the whole school talking about it for weeks like stupid Grimmjow, I only wanted to let the people I cared about the most get the news first.

It took some planning, though. My family, at least, was pretty easy to deal with. They weren't surprised in the least. When I told dad, though, he started crying to mom's poster that he might never have grandchildren, then cheered up when Karin reminded him he also had two daughters, then started crying again when he thought there would be no one to carry on the family name. I ended up kicking him in the head and knocking him out to shut him up. That's basically what I do whenever he annoys me, which is almost all the time anyway.

When I told Karin she didn't bat an eyelid and went back to watching soccer on the TV, popping her gum, after giving me the most unimpressed look ever. Yuzu blushed and stammered then got all starry-eyed and started planning the wedding. That freaked me out. I hoped that Nell and Rukia wouldn't get any ideas, because I knew for a fact they wanted to see me in a dress and that would not be happening as long as there was still breath in my body.

OK sure, I'd worn girls' clothes when I was a kid and stilettos to school, but both of those were isolated incidents. There was no fucking way I'd wear a goddamn dress. I had my limits!

Anyway, what the hell was I talking about? Oh, right, yeah. So, telling my friends was harder. I needed to get them all in the same place at the same time, make sure no one could overhear us, get ready for a variety of reactions…it was complicated.

I put that off, and in the meantime kept seeing Grimmjow as much as I could. I'd go over to his house almost all the time, eat and stay over and sleep in his bed (just sleep – I wasn't ready for anything else) and we'd borrow clothes and books and CDs from each other and talk and watch movies together: we lay on the sofa, he'd have his head on my lap and I'd run my fingers through his hair and rub his stomach (he had a weird thing about that, said it made him feel all sleepy and relaxed).

In short, we did everything that we'd done before, with added benefits. And to tell the truth it was fucking _awesome:_ just being me, not having to hide anything from myself or from him anymore, allowing myself to really feel what I'd repressed for so long. What I felt with him was incredible.

His dad didn't stop taking photos, though. I got used to it. So did Grimmjow, in the end, which was good because I was sure the constant stress of being hounded like that was gonna make his blood pressure go through the fucking roof. He would not have made a good celebrity, I knew that for a fact.

I was at his house when I remembered to tell him about it – the soccer match. It was a big event, the regional finals, and the last game I would play for my high school. Whoever won would be crowned best team in the area and we'd all been training like madmen for it. Sometimes I just went straight to Grimmjow's place since it was closer to school and collapse on his bed and pass out straight away, I was that damn tired.

But I wanted him to go, I wanted him to see me play. He hadn't ever been to one of my games, and this was the last chance he'd ever get to see me. I was almost kinda desperate about it, but no one likes a desperate guy so I tried my best to play it cool.

Nothing ever goes to plan when I'm involved, though, so I just ended up blurting it out and asking him if he wanted to go. He said yes. That was case closed.

"When is this thing, anyhow?" he asked. We were watching TV on the couch and I was lying with my head on his chest, trying to have a nap. But he was watching some loud stupid movie with a ton of explosions and sleep was impossible.

"Next week," I said, burying my head in the crook of his shoulder. "Hey, turn it down, would ya?"

"It's in a week? Are you fucking kidding me? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I've been busy!"

"I forgot you even played soccer," he said, turning down the volume a little. I kissed his neck as a thank you and he let out a little sigh.

"I almost dropped it," I said, shifting to get more comfortable, "because I've been so goddamn busy with stupid entrance exams and stuff. But Renji said he'd disown me. He let me off with karate and basketball, though. I haven't trained for them for months."

"How the fuck do you find the time to do all this shit?" Grimmjow's hands ran languidly through my hair. It was so relaxing. I closed my eyes.

"I dunno. That's why I only play soccer now."

He hummed and tugged on my hair, sending a little shock through my body. "Y'know, I always had a thing for soccer players."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's the legs. And seeing sweaty men running around and hugging and kissing each other and shit when they score a goal."

"Hah, I know, it's pretty homoerotic."

"Kinda gets me hot, really," he said, all breathy and suggestive. I opened my eyes and looked at him; he was grinning down at me meaningfully.

"So why don't you go to the match," I said, biting my lip, "and we'll see what happens after?"

His fingers tightened on my hair as he pulled my head back and leaned down for a kiss. My arms went up around his neck. The couch was too short for both of us to lie there together comfortably but that never seemed to matter. No matter where we were, when I kissed him the skies and the ground and everyone else melted into nothing. It was just him and me; his mouth, his body, his hair, he was all that existed. And it was all I needed.

* * *

_**A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.**_** ~ Ingrid Bergman

* * *

**

I promised to go to the game. I mean, why the fuck wouldn't I? Soccer players are, most of the time, really fucking hot. The legs, the ass, the bodies – running around nonstop on a patch of grass for one and a half hours really does wonders for your figure if you do it enough.

And Kurosaki had done it enough, enough for me to be able to tell he had a fine body even when he wore like three layers of clothes. He wasn't over-the-top muscly though, he was lean and lithe and wiry. Just the way I liked 'em. It was all too easy to imagine him stretching and running in his clingy little football jersey, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, muscles tense and ready…

The fact that I still hadn't seen him naked pissed me off. I'd seen his naked legs and his chest and his back and his arms, sure, I'd seen everything except what I really _wanted _to see. And I was impatient and prickly about that, yeah. I'd lusted after him for so long, having him that close made me…more lustful. Basically. Even though by then we'd only been dating for a week, at the most.

Hey, being horny ain't a crime. So don't even look at me like that.

The thought of him stripping got me ridiculously turned on. I just had to think of him slowly popping open the buttons of his shirt and tugging it off with that smug, teasing little smile on his face, undoing his belt, hooking his thumbs into the belt-loops and sliding his jeans down over those narrow hips, and I had a tent in my pants already. I used to beat off to that image more times than I can count.

You might be surprised at the amount of time I spent cultivating those fantasies. Like I said, though, I'd been lusting after his ass for more than a year, I had plenty of time to think up some dream scenarios for us to play with.

That little thing he said – 'let's see what happens after the match' – that got me imagining all the dirty, naughty things I could do to him. Those legs wrapped around my hips, my waist, my body pressing down on his, so deep inside him we wouldn't be able to tell who was who, the taste of mint in his breath from all that gum he was constantly chewing. The smell of peaches from his hair. His arms around me, hands splayed out on my back, wandering everywhere and touching everything.

Whenever I dreamed about a guy I wanted to fuck, I dreamed about Kurosaki.

So I made my way to the match with high expectations of what was gonna happen afterwards, I won't lie. I wasn't too interested in the game itself, I didn't follow small fry like these shitheads, I supported big important teams like Bayern Munich or Barcelona. You know. People with actual talent.

Not that I didn't think Kurosaki wasn't talented. I guess he had to be if he'd reached this far. I'd just never seen him in action, was all. So I waited for a week patiently, while he was off at school doing his thing, studying and learning and all that useless shit.

The day finally arrived, and I hauled my ass out the house to the place where the game was being played. It was a largeish stadium just at the edge of the town, and it was surprisingly full. I managed to snag a seat in the front few rows when someone left to get a snack. You snooze you lose, stupid sucker. Hah.

His loss, my gain. I didn't bother wearing a cap to hide my hair. So what if people saw me there? My boyfriend was playing.

Damn. Kurosaki was my boyfriend.

A strange little shiver went through my whole body when I thought about that word. _Boyfriend._

Shit Grimmjow, say it again.

I was his boyfriend, too. How weird to think, I'd never had a real _boyfriend _before. I'd fucked guys, been fucked by guys and I'd had dates with guys, but never something like _this._

It made me want to squirm and grin like a shit-faced retard. But I didn't, you know, 'cuz I'm not one. I had to practically stuff my fist in my mouth to stop myself, though.

Fuck. What'd the prick done to me?

I sat there, thinking about it. He was my boyfriend. My boyfriend. Kurosaki was my boyfriend.

There was a nice ring to it. I could get used to this.

Hah, I was gonna watch my boyfriend play soccer. And then he was gonna come home with me and we'd eat and maybe watch a long and violent movie, and then we'd go to bed. Together. My boyfriend and I would.

Damn.

I slid down into my seat until I was practically oozing on the floor, pulling the collar of my jacket up to hide my mouth because now I really was grinning like a retard, and I couldn't help it.

A voice boomed out on overhead speakers, ruining my daydream. I jumped. What a fucking asshole. Leave me to my fantasies, already.

It started shouting out names. Most of them I didn't recognize. Then Abarai's name was called, and then Kurosaki's. I sat up straight.

There he was. I could see the orange of his hair. He looked as hot as I knew he would.

The rest of the team was there too. Abarai was. Most of the other guys I didn't know, but Sado was a hulking presence, dwarfing everyone else, standing at the end of the line they formed on the grass. He must've been at least seven fucking foot tall. He was the goalkeeper, of course.

But my line of sight kept straying back to Kurosaki's bare legs. God _damn. _It was like they never ended.

Those brown eyes were searching the crowd. When Kurosaki saw me his face paled a little bit, and he tried to smile but it looked forced and brittle. After less than half a second he turned away, and after that it seemed like he tried as hard as he could not to look at me again.

I felt it flare up inside me, stinging; irritation, anxiety, a touch of fear. He'd wanted me to come and see him play. Now he looked like an animal about to be run over. What the hell was wrong?

I was already pissed off, and the game hadn't even started.

But I forced it down. This wasn't about me. He wanted me to be here, so here I was. I just hoped he appreciated the fucking effort.

What they said at the start wasn't too interesting. Just some shit about the two teams and the players and the school, blah blah blah. I wasn't paying attention. I was just looking at Kurosaki's ass in those shorts. And I kept staring at it as they kicked off. In the first ten or fifteen minutes, he was just about the only thing I watched.

After the first goal, though (scored by some puny guy on Karakura High School's side) things started getting interesting. The opposing team, players from Naguchi High (some high school from the other side of the region) they were apparently big rivals of Karakura, and they started playing dirty.

It began when one of them did a sliding tackle on Abarai when he didn't even have the ball. He tripped over and fell flat on his face, landing hard. Of course I was laughing madly inside, but Kurosaki and the others from his team weren't really that amused. Instantly they were by his side, shouting with outrage. It was an obvious foul but the ref hadn't seen it, so the offending player got off with nothing more than a warning.

After that it was like seeing a bomb go off or something. Amazing. Karakura's team responded by not letting the ball touch their half for at least twenty minutes, stealing the ball from Naguchi's defense and trying to score goals at every opportunity. Naguchi got frustrated and ended up fouling again two more times. Free kicks and a yellow card were given, tempers frayed, and that was only the start of it.

It was easy to tell that Abarai was one of the stars of the team. He was in his senior year and it would be the last game he'd play for his school, and he obviously wanted to win it bad. He streaked up and down the pitch, marking some players, tackling and passing and trying to score goals as often as he could. His face was set with concentration.

He was a good player, even I could agree to that, although it made my stomach churn with disgust to admit it. Really good. Maybe even professional-player material. But he was pretty much nothing without Kurosaki. The two worked as a seamless team, and together they were almost unstoppable. So I had that, at least.

Not far off from half-time I saw a Naguchi player had the ball, and Kurosaki was marking him. A few seconds later, with just a little quick footwork and a feint to the left, Kurosaki had taken possession and was speeding off in the direction of the goal. I almost didn't see it, he was that fast.

My heart swelled with pride. What a beautiful fucking tackle.

And then the pride vanished in a flash and turned into pure fury as the player Kurosaki had gotten the ball from came up behind him and kicked him hard, square in the back of the knee. Kurosaki stumbled and fell forward, rolling over a few times because of the momentum, before coming to lie on his side. He was clutching his leg and his face was contorted with anger and pain.

Instantly I was on my feet, fucking _howling._ The rest of the crowd was too, their faces red, screaming at the ref and the offending player.

"Foul!" I roared, slamming my fist down on top of the seat in front of me. "Fucking moron, give 'im a card! Red card asshole, _red fucking card!"_

I was _that close_ to throwing my bottle of Coke at the ref.

Or I would've been, if I'd had a bottle of Coke.

To be fair it actually wasn't mine, I just grabbed it from the empty seat next to me and hurled it in the general direction of the pitch. That really just added fuel to the fire but what the fuck did I care, my fucking boyfriend had just been crippled!

The asshole who'd done it didn't get a red card. He just got away with a yellow, and Kurosaki's team got a free kick. Abarai took it but he was so mad that he missed, and Kurosaki was escorted off the pitch, limping. After that I went back to not being interested, but I was still boiling with rage. Kurosaki _needed _that fucking leg. Next time I saw that sonuvabitch that dared touch him, I was gonna rip his damn face off and stuff it down his mouth.

The whistle for half-time rang soon after but I stayed in my seat, leaning over the edge and trying to catch Kurosaki's eye. He was sitting at the side with a murderous scowl on his face, massaging his calves. Just the way his long fingers slid over his tanned skin and dug into the muscle got me all hot under the collar, and I licked my lips.

His eyes met mine. He gestured inside and through a series of unspoken signals we arranged to meet up in a few minutes, next to the place where there was a snack vendor. Hotdogs and hamburgers and takoyaki and shit like that. Food I couldn't eat, which was fine because the smell of cooking meat was making me wanna be sick anyway.

He was waiting, leaning against a wall, looking edgy. As soon as he saw me he grabbed my arm and pulled me through an abandoned-looking door into darkness. When he turned on the light I saw it was an empty locker room. He locked the door behind him then leaned his back against it, so that he covered the little square of glass that people could see through.

"Hey," he said, turning to me and smiling.

I didn't like that smile. It was lined with uneasiness, and I could feel my hackles rising. I crossed my arms.

"What's with all the secrecy?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"This. The locked door, meeting in a place no one can see us – I bet you didn't even tell anybody I was comin', right?"

With every nervous glance he sent through the door, I could feel myself getting more and more irritated. Kurosaki looked surprised at my sudden change in mood but I've never even pretended that I, you know, had a stable temper, so I dunno what he was so shocked about.

"I-"

"I ain't fucking finished, so shut your trap," I snarled. "What the fuck is this, Kurosaki? You feed me some fucking line saying you weren't 'ashamed' or some shit like that, then you go do this. Fuckin' hiding, like some kinda pussy."

His expression darkened at the sneer on my face and the biting tone. "Listen, it's only been like two weeks since this thing started, OK? Just gimme some time. I-"

"_Since this thing started, _eh? Wow, I like how you don't say 'since we started dating'. Real smooth."

"Grimmjow, you're not getting this!" Kurosaki stalked over to me, right in my face, eyes blazing with anger. "You've been out for what, seven fucking years? You've known you were gay since you were eleven fucking years old. And me, I woke up to the fact that I liked you about-"

"Almost a year ago."

"That's different!"

"How's it so fucking _different?_ Why you gotta be different, eh Kurosaki? You ain't some special snowflake. No one's gonna die if you tell people. The Earth won't stop fucking spinning and hurl itself into the sun. The kingdom doesn't fucking rely on you having an heir. You're just an ordinary guy, so why can't you just fucking admit what's going on between us?"

"Because I'm _scared!"_

He shouted it, and the admission seemed to shock him just as much as it shocked me. Kurosaki looked at me, wide-eyed. He swallowed.

"I'm scared, all right?" he repeated softly. "There, happy?"

My brow crinkled. "Scared? What the fuck you are you scared about?"

"Everything!" He started pacing, running his hands through his hair, expression tortured. "I'm…I'm scared of what my friends are gonna think. I'm scared about whether my soccer coach cares so much he kicks me off the team, whether the teachers look down on me more than they already do, whether stupid punks start picking more and more fights with me just because of this. I don't want people treating me worse than they do already. I mean, look at my hair. Everyone thinks I'm trouble already, right? I get into fights and I talk back and I have a bad attitude. This is just the cherry on the fucking sundae."

"I thought you didn't care what people thought about you."

"Not just me. I don't want people to make fun of my sisters, or my dad, just 'cuz they're related to me. It happens. And I've caused enough trouble for them already."

Kurosaki stopped and stood still. He still had that anguished look on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Grimmjow, I know that's really- I know you've gone through worse, but...I don't know. It's hard to explain. I just...I need a little time, all right?"

"Yeah, whatever. You done?"

"No! I…" Kurosaki licked his dry lips and stared into my eyes. He came up and grabbed at my jacket. "Grimmjow, I'm scared most of all 'cuz I like you, too. I really, really like you. And I've never felt like this for – for anyone else in my life, all right? I feel as…I feel like it's so strong it could kill me, yeah? And I'm not sure if I'm OK with that."

He waited for me to answer, breathing deep. His eyes searched my face anxiously. But I didn't say anything. I couldn't. So all I did was cup his face in my hands and kiss him.

He was a fucking idiot.

Well, so was I.

But he was a bigger one.

That was all he was worried about?

His lips were warm, and I sucked softly on his bottom one, slipping my tongue into his mouth and pulling him closer. His arms wound around my neck and one of my hands was moving lower and lower down his back to press against his ass. I pushed him against the wall, hands on either side of his head. It was just getting really hot when a loud shout from just outside the door made us jump apart.

A few seconds of heavy breathing, getting our hearts back to normal rhythm, his head on my shoulder. Kurosaki's orange hair was soft against my cheek, until he moved back and shot a look at his watch, pulling a face.

"Shit," he said, "I need to go, they'll be wondering where I am."

"You've been gone like five minutes."

"Our coach is fucking crazy. He'll chew me out for missing two seconds." He smiled, apologetic. "I gotta go."

"Yeah, fine. I…well, I…"

"What?"

I cleared my throat, looking away from him. "About telling people. I mean, I get the whole being scared thing, but seriously, don't be a pussy. You don't have to worry about it. You don't have a crazy bitch mom like me, and I can tell people actually like you. Most of the time. So. Uh. You probably won't have any problems from anyone, is what I'm saying. And if you do just tell me and I'll go over and beat them to a pulp."

He stared at me.

"What?" I demanded, getting tense. What the fuck was that look for?

He touched his forehead to mine and a little smile bloomed on his face. It was a real one this time, and it was shy and grateful. "Grimmjow, thanks."

"What for? You didn't even blow me."

"Like I've even done that yet."

"_Yet?_ So…you intend to?"

"Oi, let's leave that to fate, why don't we? And I meant, thank you for actually listening to me once. Kind of." A deep sigh."I…I promise I won't keep this a secret much longer. I just…need some time. To get used to...this. Just a little more."

"Yeah. Just not too much."

"I know. I'll try my best." Such an earnest look in his eyes.

I kissed him again and murmured against his lips, "You better win this fucking match."

"Why, would you reward me?" Kurosaki shifted and ran his tongue lightly over the shell of my ear. I could feel myself getting harder.

"Hm, maybe." I squeezed his ass, hard.

"Incentive. I like it." His voice had dropped, gotten huskier, sexier. His eyes were dark, shining with lust.

"Don't let me down," I mumbled, licking his neck. His breath caught.

"I won't."

"Good. Now, get that fine ass back to where it needs to be," I said, pinching his butt. He rolled his eyes, cheeks pink, and kissed me again lightly before turning to the door. He unlocked it, threw me another little smile over his shoulder before leaving.

The door shut with barely a sound. I looked at my watch – still some time before they were playing again. Enough time to get myself a snack. All I needed was to calm my libido down and I'd be fine.

After splashing my face with cold water a few times, I was about as ready as I'd ever be. I was about to line up to get some food, but all they had was stuff with meat. All the vegetarian options looked like crap. Fuck's sake. I sighed and just got a Coke. I paid and turned around – behind me was that dyke chick Kurosaki hung around with, the karate one. Arigawa. Or something.

"Wow, Jaegerjaques? Is that you?" she asked in surprise, peering up at me.

"No, I'm actually Santa Claus in disguise. Moron."

She scowled. "Why the hell are _you _here?"

"For the tea party, obviously," I snapped at her. "Excuse me, I don't wanna miss it."

I pushed past her roughly. She cursed and glared at me but I didn't give a shit. What the fuck was she to me? Nothing, that's what.

The rest of the match was boring as shit. Kurosaki sat out, he'd pulled a few muscles in his leg from that disgusting foul. So I wasn't too interested, I was counting down the minutes till it finished.

About fifty incredibly boring minutes later the whistle blew and the match ended. Kurosaki's team had won 3-2, so I guess it was a pretty good game. Lots of goals and tension and shit. But I didn't care, I just wanted to get home and eat and watch a movie with my boyfriend, then maybe do something naughty with him and go to bed.

He said he'd meet me at the main doors after he'd changed. Everyone else was either way too excited or pissed off, depending on which team they supported. People were singing and dancing and drinking, or they were moping and frowning and I could feel the tension rising between them all. There were a ton of drunk teenagers, following both teams. They were eying each other up and a part of me wanted to jump in and join them when the inevitable bloodbath occurred, but a bigger part of me just wanted to leave.

Which was weird. What the fuck, usually I lived for these kinda things. You know. Beating people up and shit. And now I was all twitchy, counting down the seconds until Kurosaki arrived.

When he finally_ did_ come and meet me the first thing he did was apologize.

"You better be sorry," I muttered, glowering at him. "I waited about ten million years here, looking like some loner dick with no friends."

"Hey, everyone's so excited, I couldn't help it. They wouldn't let me escape. I had to give them some line about taking care of my sisters tonight."

"It's just a high school game, jeez."

"Yeah but there was a talent scout there. Renji was so stoked. I saw them talking after the game finished. Actually I think they're still talking."

I frowned. "Why ain't he talking to you too?"

"Because I'm not as good as Renji, that's why."

"Bullshit, you're every bit as good!"

He grinned at seeing me so indignant. "Nah, I'm not. But it's cool. I'm going to med school anyway. I can't just go and suddenly be an athlete out of nowhere."

My mind was conflicted. On one hand, Kurosaki as a doctor was a pretty hot idea. On the other, I kept seeing images of him in a football jersey, with material clinging to his ass and his chest and his arms, sweat dripping down his back and his hair hanging down his forehead and getting into his eyes. And he'd flick it away, 'cuz he always got pissed if his hair got into his eyes. And he'd be warming up before matches too, leaning over and bending and stretching-

"Grimmjow? Earth to Grimmjow, are you receiving me?" Kurosaki snapped his fingers in front of my face, startling me.

"Huh?"

"Oi, what the hell's up with you? I didn't know you could be so spacey."

"I'm seriously horny right now."

"…You really don't waste words, do you?"

"Let's just go back to my place," I said, gaze raking over him. His face was still a little flushed and sweaty, his eyes were bright with victory, a smirk was curling the corners of his mouth. I just wanted him in my bed. I wanted to go at it there and then.

"Let's go, then," he said. I took his arm and I just about hauled him out of there. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that dyke girl – Arisawa, her name was Arisawa – and Abarai, talking quietly, heads close together. They glanced at us. Abarai's face went all strange and stony. Arisawa put a hand on his arm and guided him away, shooting looks at me and Kurosaki all the while. Kurosaki, the moron, he didn't notice a thing. But already, I could tell; they knew.

I didn't think about them again, though. I didn't care. My boyfriend was with me, talking and laughing and smiling, and there was nothing else I wanted to do more in the world than be there with him.

Outside, as we walked home, it was pouring down with rain. Usually, I fucking hate the stuff, but when Kurosaki was there with me I didn't notice it at all. As if it wasn't even falling.


	24. legs and arms and hands and feet

_**The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them.**_ ~ Stephen King

**

* * *

**

The weather was weird. Kinda sunny, kinda rainy, couldn't make up its mind whether it was winter or spring yet. We walked along to my place, Kurosaki and I did, ignoring the grey clouds, talking about the game, the score, the players, and of course the fucking fouls.

"That was fucking unbelievable, man. He should've got sent off." I was still seething about it.

He shrugged. "You know the ref can't give a red card if he didn't see what happened."

"I wanted to knock his fucking head off. I can't believe he didn't see it!"

"Yeah well, it's over now. We won and Renji caught the scout's eye, so he's gonna get smashed tonight with the rest of the team."

"See, if I was a good person I'd be telling you to go and join 'em and enjoy yourself. But I don't want you to."

"So what, I gotta enjoy myself with you?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way." I noticed that he was limping a little, his face screwing up whenever he leaned too heavily on his right leg. "Oi, is your leg OK?"

"Kinda sore, but I'll be fine. Just need to rest it a few days."

"Shame."

"Why?"

"I wasn't intending on giving you any rest."

"God, you're such a creep." He was laughing, and I put an arm around his waist. I didn't know why I did it, usually I just hate touching people. All I wanted to do to Kurosaki, though, was touch him.

"I might be creepy," I said, "but I'm still hot."

"And your ego is suffocating me."

"Tch, you like it. Don't even lie."

He rolled his eyes but didn't answer, instead putting his hand on top of mine, where it was resting on his hip, and left it there.

It started raining again. A kind of mist at first, real pussified, but then it was really pouring down and we were both soaked to the bone in minutes. Kurosaki grabbed my hand and pulled me under some trees, and we waited there for like half an hour or something. It died down a little, but when I was about to suggest that we leave I saw that Kurosaki was staring off into the distance, a lost expression on his face.

"Oi." I tugged on his arm, and he jerked.

"Oh – shit, sorry."

"What is it?"

He swallowed and looked away again. His gaze was practically drilling into a hill just to our left.

"For fuck's sake, moron, tell me what's wrong!"

"It's just…I've never walked to your place this way before."

"So?"

"I just realized, my mom's grave is just over there," he said, pointing to the hill.

The rain had started to let up but it seemed to be just a trick from Mother Nature. There was a dark rumble of thunder and it was pelting down again soon enough. It was a river pouring down from the clouds, even the trees gave us no shelter. It was like we were taking a shower in the open air. Not fucking pleasant in the least.

I didn't even notice it much. Kurosaki's gaze was distant and unseeing. Water was streaming down his face. His hair was limp and wet. He had never seemed so far away.

"Wanna go?"

I still don't know where those words came from. All these things, being nice, being patient, putting my arm around him and acting like someone…like someone who was not me. Where the fuck was it coming from?

"What?" He turned to me, expression blank.

"Your mom. Let's go visit. It's about time I met her, anyway."

Kurosaki opened his mouth. He shut it. He tried to speak, and it looked like the hardest thing he'd ever done.

"Yeah, OK," he said.

I took his hand and squeezed. His mouth curved into a smile and we walked to the hill, up all the steps, in the pouring rain. It was coming down so hard it was like physical blows to the head. Water was running down the back of my neck. He was holding my hand like he was trying to crush the bone to paste.

But I was a man, I didn't fucking complain. What was that compared to what I'd gone through in the past, anyway, the pain of cramps, nausea, shivers wracking my entire body every time I didn't get a hit soon enough? Coming down from my high, it was like I crashed into a sea of churning lava every time. Like my flesh was melting off my bones.

I thought about it, the past, and I could feel it all rushing back to me. The pain. The hallucinations. All that degrading, disgusting shit that I put myself through, just for that drug. And it was strange, to think of it then, because it was like I was a person just looking in on my life from the outside.

Every time I shot up. Wrapped that elastic round my arm, to get the veins bulging up so I didn't stick the needle in the wrong place. Like a film reel, playing against the wall, and I was watching it and thinking, what the fuck. Where did that guy go? That thin, pale, ugly person, so fucking angry at everything and everyone, violent and rude and self-destructive, crashing and burning. Hating his father and his mother and his life, everyone he set eyes on, everything that was bright and happy and good.

When did that person disappear? When did I change from being that, to being the sort of person that held hands and cuddled and did retarded sappy shit like that?

And how the fuck had it happened?

An involuntary tug on my hand as Kurosaki slipped on some wet grass. I grabbed his arm to keep him from falling, and he gave me a distracted half-smile. And I felt it, a little flutter in the pit of my stomach, and I couldn't help my lips from twitching up a little. All the way to his mother's grave, I couldn't stop staring at him, and I don't think he ever noticed.

His skin seemed paler than usual. His freckles stood out more. And he kept biting his lips, chewing at them, making them pink and swollen. Those brown eyes stared at the ground. All I could do was keep holding his hand, like he'd done for me in the past.

In that ambulance. I was so sure I was going to die.

I'd wanted to die.

Then those eyes, that orange hair, hovering over my face in the nick of time, and he was frantic with worry, panic sliding off his skin like sweat. I remember the feel of his hand in mine, the way it felt so warm and strong and sure. His hand, brushing my hair away from my forehead.

He'd felt so_ alive._

I hadn't.

That had been years ago. The memory was as clear to me like it'd happened yesterday.

Why couldn't I just say the words to him?

I wanted to. Every time I opened my mouth, though, they'd clog up in my throat. Fighting to get out. Fighting to stay hidden. I didn't know which.

Maybe it was a sign that the time wasn't right or something. Maybe I needed to wait.

But how long? How long was too long? Before he graduated? Went to med school in Tokyo, packing up and leaving me behind?

Another flutter in my belly, but nauseated this time. Sickening.

Shit, shut up, stupid brain. Shut the fuck up.

"We're almost there," he said quietly.

After walking through some trees and passing past so many graves my head started spinning, we reached it. It was just like the others, gray and black marble, holders for incense and flowers at either side. The family name was engraved on the front. Apart from that, there was nothing else to tell it apart from the other gravestone.

Kurosaki crouched down and gently passed his fingertips over the marble. His fingers traced over the name. His lips were pressed into a thin, hard line.

"Do you miss her?" I asked. My voice sounded so strange in the rain, kinda whispery and metallic, if you can imagine that. Big fat raindrops plopped onto the ground, splashing into puddles and turning the grass into sludge.

"I miss her every damn day," he said. "She was my mom, Grimmjow. I won't ever _not_ miss her."

I couldn't imagine that. "Really?"

"Yeah. I…I can't believe it's been almost ten years, you know?" He breathed out. "Damn. Ten years."

Before I could stop him he just sat down, right there on the wet concrete, crossing his legs. His head was bowed. God, all his clothes were soaked through. We'd both come down with pneumonia or something if we didn't get out of these things soon.

"Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I still think she's there," he said. "When my dad doesn't attack me to wake me up, and I lie there. Like I'm waiting for her to come in and tell me to get out of bed and get ready for school. But that's only for a second or two, and then I remember everything."

I could hardly hear him over the rain, so I sat down next to him, silent.

"I keep thinking…" His voice was getting rough. He cleared his throat. "I keep thinking about all the things she's gonna miss. Like me graduating. Helping me move out, weddings, grandchildren. Things like that. And I…"

He trailed off. He screwed his eyes shut, face scrunching up a little bit.

"Sorry," he gritted out. "Sorry. Just. I'm fine, OK? I'm fine."

Kurosaki's hands curled into fists, resting on his knees. His head fell forward until he was almost bent double and he kept on taking deep, deep breaths. When he straightened up, his eyes were red around the edges and I couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain.

Without even thinking about it my hand came up and touched his cheek. His eyes flickered to me, and there was that tiny smile again, just pulling at the corners of his mouth. And that twist, in my stomach, that told me it was worth anything to see him smile like that.

I don't know whether he moved to me or the other way round. Maybe it was both. It doesn't matter either way. We ended up hugging, him sitting between my legs with his head tucked under my chin, arms around my waist while mine were around his shoulders.

He sighed. He'd been doing a lot of that recently. He sounded so tired.

"Thank you," he said.

And he'd been saying that a lot, too. "What for, moron?"

"For everything."

"Wow, way to be specific."

He sighed again. He seemed to be fighting with what to say next.

"Grimmjow, I really like you."

"I know, I do too. I'm fucking awesome." I was being completely serious, so I don't know why he laughed.

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"Hmm."

The rain was sliding through my hair like icy fingers, trailing over my skin and running into my eyes. I kissed the crown of his head and his hands tightened their grip on me.

"Grimmjow?"

"What?"

"I know this is…this is kind of a sore spot, but…this thing with your mom." Kurosaki's voice was halting at the beginning, but it picked up strength. "I know she said and did a lotta really shitty things to you, and I don't expect you to, like, forgive her or anything anytime soon, but…I think…it would be nice if you could. You know. Make up with her."

I let the words hang in the air. I digested them. He started fidgeting.

"_What _the fuck did you just say?"

"You don't have to do it now," he said quickly. "Think about it. Just think about it, OK? I know you think she messed up your life, right, and I'll be the first to agree she wasn't the best mom in the world, but she's _your_ mom, all right? She's the only one you've ever had and will ever have. Just…think about it."

"I don't fucking need that bitch back in my life."

"No. You don't. But she was sorry for what she did, you know she was. And she probably still is."

"I don't give a shit."

"Grimmjow, I'm not saying you have to do it." He was starting to get frustrated. I was already there. "And if you do, don't do it for me. Or for her. Don't do it for anyone else apart from you, OK? Only talk to her if you want to. I'm not forcing you to do it. It's just an idea, before…"

His voice faded away.

"Before what, dickhead?" I snapped. What the fuck, my relationship with my mother was none of his fucking business.

"Before she ends up like that," he said, nodding at his mother's grave.

I bared my teeth in a sneer. I let my arms drop away from him. "I couldn't give a flying fuck if she was dead or not. You shut the hell up and stop talking about shit that ain't none of your business, all right? Don't go sticking your nose into places it doesn't belong."

He recoiled like I'd slapped him, pulling back and staring at me with wide, hurt eyes. Just for a second. And then a shutter came down over them and they became cold and angry.

"Fine, forget I fucking mentioned it." Kurosaki pushed me away roughly, getting to his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking away.

For a moment I was too stunned by my own stupidity to move, but then when I realized he was getting further and further from me I struggled to get up, to follow him, almost tripping up on wet stones and mud I was in such a hurry.

Shit. Fuck. Why was I such a moron? Why did I always do this?

"Oi! Where the fuck d'you think you're going?" I shouted after him.

"I'm going home," he called back shortly, over his shoulder.

"But-"

"And I know the way back, we come here every year. So you don't have to escort me or some shit." The tone of his voice was as stinging as he could make it.

"Kurosaki-"

"Thanks for coming to the match, since it was none of your_ business_ and all. See you later."

I managed to catch up to him at the edge of a steep staircase, and reached out to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged me off. He didn't look at me, speak to me, studiously ignored me as we both went down the steps.

It was late. It was dark. I'd dragged him into my messes before. He could take care of himself, but who fucking knew what could happen on a night like this? I sure as fuck wasn't gonna let him walk home _alone._

"You stupid retard, stop fucking ignoring me!" Maybe a good old insult like that would work.

He kept walking.

OK, maybe not.

"You're being such a stupid shit right now, you know that?"

At that, Kurosaki stopped and glared at me poisonously. "Yeah, because caring about important things like that is stupid. But what do I know, huh? Sorry for not minding my own fucking _business _and being so fucking _stupid._ I won't bother you with it again."

A thrill of fear went through me at those words. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? "Stop being a bitch, Kurosaki."

"Fuck you!"

I reached out and managed to get a hold of his arm; he jerked away from me roughly. It happened too fast for me to react; he slipped on the wet, smooth steps we were standing on, catching his foot on the edge of one and tumbling down almost half a dozen before ending up curled on his side, holding his leg, swearing and cursing loudly. I was there in less than a second.

"Hey-"

He smacked away my hand, which was reaching for him. "Get lost, Grimmjow!"

I snarled and grabbed the back of his collar, hauling him up to his feet. "You stupid shit, I'm trying to help!"

"I don't need your help!" he spat furiously. "I don't need your help just like you don't need mine!"

"Bullshit, you can't even fucking walk. You're a fucking moron."

I always say the wrong fucking thing. I should just have a tattoo on my mouth saying 'insert foot here'.

"I'm not an invalid," Kurosaki said, livid, trying to wrench himself out of my arms. "Let me go. I'm going home."

He took one step on his own and then his leg seemed to give out and he almost fell to the ground again. But I caught him. Held him so fucking tight he couldn't shake me off, no matter how hard he tried.

"Let me fucking go, you stupid prick!"

"I'm _sorry!"_ I was almost yelling in his ear, I was so mad. Mad at him, for bringing this whole thing up. And mad at myself, for being such a dick, for making everything worse, for taking the good thing he was trying to do and making it into such a nightmare.

"I'm sorry I'm such a fucking asshole, OK? I can't help it. I didn't mean…you just…fuck. Fuck!" I buried my face in his wet hair. It hadn't stopped raining at all. We were wetter than if we'd both been dunked in a swimming pool. My voice came out strained and broken. "I'm sorry...that I…I…was an ass. I'm sorry."

He snorted.

"I _am._ I didn't – I didn't mean it! You know I didn't." Apologizing to anyone usually caused me physical pain. With Kurosaki, it was no different. I just wanted him to forgive me more desperately more than I hated saying those words.

I wouldn't let go of him. He kept on struggling. After almost five straight minutes of trying to get free, he snapped, "Are you seriously just going to keep me like this until I forgive you?"

"Damn straight."

"Just let me go home, idiot."

"No."

"For fuck's sake-"

"How many times do I actually have to say it for you to believe me?" I snarled. "I'm sorry, OK? I'm fucking sorry. I…I just…I…"

That lump in my throat, again. It was blocking everything up.

"You just what?" Kurosaki said.

The moment passed. I couldn't. "I just want to get home before we end up getting a cold or something. All right?"

He sagged in despair and resignation. I let him go, but he didn't move, only rubbed his face with his hands and winced when he put too much pressure on his bad leg.

"That guy really fucked you up," I said.

"No shit."

"You're not going back to your house. It's too far to walk. And you need to see a doctor about your leg."

"Then I'll-"

"You're coming with me."

"And you're not even giving _me_ a chance to talk! You never do, Grimmjow. You never goddamn_ listen._ What's the point of saying anything to you if you're not even gonna take notice of it?" Kurosaki was facing me, nothing but pure exasperation on his face.

I knew he wasn't just talking about this. It wasn't just about whose house we were going to tonight.

"I know this whole mom-thing isn't something you wanna talk about," he went on, "but seriously, I think you should. It's been years. Don't you think you should give her just one more chance?"

"No."

He threw up his hands. "Great! See, there's something else. You're so fucking stubborn. You never change your opinion, you always think you're right and it's not until you're lying in the dirt dying that you might admit you've done something wrong."

"What's that gotta do with anything?" I said, squaring my shoulders, eyes narrowed. My voice was rough with anger, a contrast to the smooth cold hiss of the rain.

"I'm trying to help you, you idiot!" Kurosaki yelled. "I'm trying to get you to see that you still have both your parents, and they love you and want you in their lives. And you won't know what I'm talking about until it's too late. I want you to have a good life, a happy fucking life, 'cuz I…I…"

His voice wavered. His face crumpled.

"You what?" I asked.

Kurosaki's mouth twisted. He was embarrassed. "Because I really like you. And if your mom is sorry, then I think you should believe her and I think there's still time to repair your relationship." He shrugged, expression becoming blank and unreadable. "That's all."

"You think I need a mom to be happy?"

"That's not what I-"

"I'm already happy."

"You – what?"

I took a few steps towards him, so we were standing close together. Kurosaki stared into my eyes. I scratched my head, wondering how I could put what I felt into words without sounding like a lovesick sap.

"What I mean is," I said, "I don't need a perfect fucking family to be happy. Er. 'Cuz. You know." I cleared my throat, the back of my neck prickling with heat. "'Cuz I have you, y'know. And that's all I need. I really – like, I really… really lo-"

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Keep taking them.

"I really like you, too. OK?"

Oh, you fucking coward.

Kurosaki was still staring at me. I could feel the heat flooding my whole face, down my neck and chest. Urgh. What the hell had that been? Had I really said those words? Oh fuck, I'd fallen so low-

He smiled at me in that moment and it was so brilliant and unexpected it took my breath away. He held my face in his hands and pulled me to him for a kiss

It wasn't something hot and steamy, just a gentle press of his lips to mine. He moved back and smiled again.

"Grimmjow, I really hate how you do that. I really really do."

"Do what?"

"How you can make me so goddamn mad then just say something like that and get me to forget I was mad at you in the first place. Just, what the hell."

"What can I say, it's one of my many skills."

He rolled his eyes. "But I'm too used to you being an ass for _that_ to affect me much."

"I'm not an ass, everyone else is just too fuckin' sensitive."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." There was pause as frayed tempers settled back down and in about ten or twenty seconds it wasn't like we hadn't even argued at all. Kurosaki shifted a little and made a face, looking down at his leg. "Damn, that asshole really kicked me hard."

"We're most definitely going to my place."

"I'm not going to argue. It's useless."

"It's not that you _won't _argue. You just _can't."_

"Yeah, keep thinking that-"

A flash of lightning nearby made us flinch. It was followed by a drum-roll of thunder, and the rain pounded down hard. I'd almost forgotten about it.

"If we're gonna go, we better do it now," Kurosaki said.

"It's not like we can get any wetter than we are already."

"Don't tempt fate, Grimmjow." He took my elbow and yanked a little. "C'mon, let's go."

We should've run through it. Me and Kurosaki both despised the rain, but that night we just walked through it, calm as anything, just walking in silence. His hand slipped down from my elbow to my wrist and my fingers tangled with his and squeezed.

"Sorry I made you go," he said quietly, when we were about halfway home.

"The fuck are you talking about now."

"The game. You didn't seem to enjoy it. Looked like you were really bored, most of the time."

"I was."

His shoulders stiffened and I added, "But that's all right, I don't care. I kinda like having a boring life. I've had too much fun these last few years, you know?"

He snorted. "Yeah, if you call almost being killed a couple times 'fun'."

"It's been more than a couple times," I said. "You have no idea how fucking messed up my life was before you… before you found me. When I OD'd."

"I have a pretty good idea."

"No. You don't."

Kurosaki glanced at me curiously. "Yeah. You never really explained what you did for…him. Aizen. You're always so vague."

"Drugs. Guns. Money. The rest, you don't want to know. I don't want to tell you. Not gonna drag more people into my shitty life."

"Do you still work for him? 'Cuz you don't seem…you don't disappear as much as you used to."

"Yeah, I still do stuff. But not much. I'm trying to…avoid it. Kind of."

"Trying to leave?"

"Yeah. I guess. Dunno how, though." I shrugged, scowling.

"I'm guessing he won't be too happy about that."

"No. He won't."

"Be careful." He squeezed my hand, looked at me seriously.

"I always am, retard."

"No," he said. "You never are."

My mouth twisted. I didn't know what to say. I hadn't been careful in the past. I hadn't cared. I hadn't cared if people shot at me or beat me up, because none of it mattered. The pain I went through didn't matter. If I died, it wouldn't have mattered because no one would've gone to my funeral apart from my dad. Now, I knew there would be one more person at least, and it was surprising how much that meant to me.

"My life is pretty boring, to be honest," Kurosaki said. "I don't work for some criminal businessman. I don't get into serious fights every other week and I don't do the stuff you do. I study, I do my homework. I play soccer and go out with my friends. Or I used to. I'm not exciting. Hope you don't mind."

"I don't. I already said. I've had enough excitement. I'm ready to be bored for a while."

Kurosaki smiled a little but didn't reply. We didn't say a thing until we got home, and when we did my dad squawked at the sight of us, took a picture then forced us to strip down to our underwear in the foyer before he'd let us take a step further inside. He gave us big fluffy towels to wrap ourselves in and me and Kurosaki went upstairs, grumbling at how stupid we looked and felt.

"Your hair looks retarded," he informed me when we were up in my room. "All the gel's melted."

"Yeah well, at least I only look like this when it rains. _You_ always look as stupid as you do now."

"Liar. I always look cool."

"Who's the bigheaded one now, eh?"

Kurosaki sighed. "I really wanna take a shower."

"Let's take it together." The words just popped out. But it wasn't a bad idea. I'd been itching to see him naked.

"Together?"

"Yeah."

I waited for his reaction. He should've blushed and started stuttering. But instead he tilted his head to the side, looked me up and down, and let a slow sexy smirk creep over his lips.

"You're not saying no." Oh my god, just fucking say yes already.

"I'm not gonna," he said, the smirk getting bigger. All the blood in my body started rushing to my dick.

I didn't have to drag him to the bathroom. He came with me willingly enough. I locked the door and turned around slowly. Kurosaki had flung his towel over one of the racks attached to the wall and he stood there, damp, dressed in nothing but his black boxer shorts. They weren't tight but I could see the outline of his cock against the material anyway, and my breath hitched.

He saw me watching. A strange, cruel little twinkle passed over his eyes. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down, agonizingly slowly.

I could not breathe.

Over his hips. His thighs. The shorts dropped down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. Then he stretched, crossing his arms behind his head, and raised his eyebrows at me.

"If you don't shut your mouth something might fly in and nest there," he said.

I made some unintelligible noise. It felt like something had mixed up all my insides.

The line of fine blond hair led down, getting darker and thicker until it reached orange curls. His cock hung long and heavy between his legs and I just could not tear my eyes away from him.

"Oi." He cleared his throat. I looked back up at his face. His cheeks were tinted a faint pink. He said, "You know, you gotta be naked before you can take a shower. Or do you want some help with that?"

It took me a couple of seconds to get my voice working. "T-that…that would be good."

Kurosaki took a few steps forward and slid my shorts down my body, slowly and steadily, barely inches at a time. His gaze was locked with mine and those brown eyes were almost black. His pupils had swelled so much in size that his irises were just thin brown rings surrounding them.

I could feel his hands resting on my bare hips. My skin was so hot, it felt like I had a fever. Kurosaki leaned forwards a bit; I followed suit. His mouth barely brushed mine before he was moving away, grinning at me, getting into the shower and turning on the water.

"You getting in too or what?" he said.

That fucking-

"That was a nasty fucking trick you just pulled there."

It didn't come out the way I wanted. My voice was all husky instead of growly and annoyed. Kurosaki shot me a smug smile.

I made sure the water was scalding hot. He hissed when it hit his skin but I didn't give him much time to dwell on it, trapping him against the smooth tiled wall and capturing his lips. I made sure to press up against him as hard as I could and he moaned, tangling his fingers through my hair. I could feel his hard dick sliding up against mine. My hands, they started wandering down, stroking his skin and pinching his nipples, making him gasp and groan and arch into me.

I kissed along his jaw, sucked hard on his neck. My hands cupped his bare ass. It was as perfect as I knew it would be, smooth and round and firm. I squeezed. Tried to speak.

"Oi, Kurosaki…"

I could barely get words out. I sounded like I'd been drugged, my voice was slurred and rasping. Kurosaki let his head fall back against the wall, grinding his pelvis into mine. It was as much permission as I needed.

His cock was so hard, swollen and throbbing. I could feel the beat of his pulse when I touched him and stroked. He was slick from the water, flesh hard and heated under my fingers.

"Oh god. Ungh." He was gasping, eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, ah, shit, Grimmjow-"

I started pulling on his dick, softly at first, up and down. My other hand fisted at the base, feeling the blood pulse through him. I was as hard as he was, I could feel my body start humming and fizzing with arousal, more and more intense until I knew he was close. I didn't let him come.

"No," he whimpered, when my hands left him. "Shit no, don't stop-"

I kissed him to shut him up, hard enough to leave bruises when I kissed his neck, trailing my mouth down over his chest, sucking his nipples hard enough to have him let out some strangled sound that made my cock throb. I licked down that tantalizing trail of hair until I was kneeling on the floor.

He almost cried out when I took him in my mouth. His fingers wound in my hair and he was groaning loud enough that it echoed in the bathroom.

I didn't want him coming too soon. I had to draw it out. It was the first time he'd ever had a handjob or a blowjob – I had to make sure he'd remember these moments for all the right reasons. So I just let my tongue slide over the head of his cock, flicking the wet muscle at the slit and sucking him in slowly until my lips were puffed out around him. My hands gripped his ass. Little pathetic sounds came out his mouth. His hips were writhing.

I took him whole, tongue suckling around his length. One of my hands moved to squeeze the base of his cock and his whole body spasmed. I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks.

Kurosaki stuffed a fist in his mouth as he came, hot and sticky, hitting the back of my throat. I didn't gag. I hadn't gagged for years when someone came in my mouth, and I swallowed him down.

When I let his spent dick slip from my mouth I pressed my mouth against his thigh. His skin was smooth and lightly tanned all over, even after winter. The muscles were trembling. I felt him grip the back of my head and pull me up, latching onto my mouth and kissing me so deeply and so desperately I felt myself pulse with every breath I took.

All of a sudden his hands were there, cool against my raging hot flesh. He knew how to jerk a guy off; he'd probably done it to himself a thousand times before. His pace was quick and hard, relentless, not stopping or slowing down until I was spilling myself all over his hands. I groaned into his mouth. I wanted to slide to the floor. My bones had turned to mush. I couldn't talk. I couldn't think.

We stood there under the steaming hot water, streams of it cascading down our bodies, kissing until my jaw ached and I felt cleaner than I ever had before. Which was funny, if you think about it, because what I was imagining doing to Kurosaki at that moment was anything but clean.

There was a loud knock at the door.

"Grimmjow, are you finished yet?" dad whined. "You'll use up all the hot water!"

Oh sweet Jesus, he needed to die. Right now. Just _die._

"Dad, get lost!"

"Ooh, how rude you are to your poor father! And think of Ichigo-san, he needs to get clean too you know."

Kurosaki caught my eye. We both smiled wickedly.

"Actually, I'm right here," he called out loudly, squirming and shooting me a dark look when I slapped his ass.

A pause.

"Ah…." Dad sounded embarrassed. "Oh. Right. Well. I'll just…go. Er."

"Yeah, you do that!" I yelled. "Gotta make sure he's all squeaky clean. Might take a while."

Kurosaki sighed. There was no answer from outside; dad had fucked off at last.

"We haven't done much cleaning," Kurosaki pointed out.

"Doesn't matter."

"We need to wash our hair, at least."

"Whatever."

He took a bottle of shampoo and squirted some out on his hand. He noticed the interested look on my face.

"It's nothing like that, idiot. Just turn around."

"Want me to bend over too?"

"Ah, shut up." He nudged me until my back was to him. I felt his long thin fingers start massaging the shampoo into my hair, combing through it slowly and pressing into my scalp. Tingles raced down my back. My head fell back. A small moan escaped my mouth.

"Feel good?" he murmured.

"Mmm."

Kurosaki pressed my scalp harder and it felt so damn amazing. He was turning my body to jello. My eyes rolled to the back of my head when he pulled on my hair a little, and I sighed. Kurosaki kissed the back of my neck.

The pressure lightened until I couldn't feel his fingers at all. My hair was thick with foam, and it felt like it was being…molded?

"Oi, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Giving you a shampoo Mohawk. Stand still, would ya?" I could hear the laughter in his voice.

"I feel stupid," I grumbled.

"You'll look stupid too. Oh, all done. Turn around."

My mouth set in a hard line, I did as he asked. As soon as he saw me he burst into laughter.

"Oh my god, you really do look like an idiot!"

"Shut up," I growled. I held my head under the stream of water and let it wash the foam away. Kurosaki watched me with a strange tilt to his lips.

"What?" I said.

"Hm. Nothing. Just…" He brushed some strands of hair away from my forehead. "You look really different with your hair down. Like this, instead of all spiky."

"I look like a kid."

"You look hot."

My heart jumped. "What?"

Brown eyes darkened. "I never told you this before? You're the sexiest person I've ever set eyes on, you stupid shit. You're so fucking gorgeous it's unreal."

"S-shut up!" I was not blushing. Why the fuck would I be blushing? I was not blushing at all because only stupid sappy girls did that. No.

"You are, though. Don't you believe me?" He inched forward till his mouth ghosted over my skin. "I see people checking you out on the streets and I feel so lucky that you're mine, you know that? You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." He started kissing me, light butterfly touches all over my face and neck, talking breathlessly all the while.

"I always thought you were hot. Sometimes I couldn't stop looking at you. I love your hair. Your eyes. You don't even know how much I want you, you make me so –mph-"

This idiot talked way too fucking much. The only way to shut him up properly was to make sure his mouth was occupied with doing other things.

Kurosaki was hard, too. I jerked him off again but harder this time, stroking his dick until he was twisting and whimpering nonstop. His come was sticky and hot and the water washed it away almost immediately. Kurosaki dropped to his knees, spreading my thighs and I couldn't help it, I gasped when I felt his wet, warm mouth engulf my cock. He suckled on me hungrily, slurping and sucking and the noises he made, fuck, he sounded so dirty, so obscene, and I came so suddenly it just about knocked me over.

My hand threaded through his wet orange hair. It was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

Come was drooling out the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked up and locked with mine; the tip of his pink tongue flicked out and lapped it up. He swallowed, bit down on his bottom lip, then took my dick in his hands and gave the head one last kittenish lick. I shuddered. He nuzzled the inside of my thigh.

"Grimmjow…" Kurosaki's voice was hardly above a whisper.

I grunted. I couldn't talk. If I opened my mouth I would fall over.

"We need to get out of here soon or we'll be all pruny."

He stood up on unsteady legs and braced his hands on my shoulders, giving me one last kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue.

We finished washing in silence, stepping out of the bathroom a few minutes later. We sat on my bed, me hunched over between Kurosaki's legs while he dried my hair with a towel. I did the same for him. It was too late to use a hair dryer, my dad would've come storming in screeching at us again for waking him up.

There were no words to say. I don't know how that was possible at the time, given what we'd just done, but it seemed…natural. I wasn't embarrassed at all, and he didn't seem to be either. There was an unspoken agreement – this could wait for the morning.

It was late. We needed to sleep. We were both beat, but I was hungry, so I went to the kitchen to get myself a snack. When I came back upstairs, Kurosaki was crouched over one of my cupboards, flicking through my CDs.

"You have really shit taste in music," he said, not even looking over his shoulder at me.

"You're just a snob."

"That's rich, coming from you," he snorted. Then he paused and leaned forward. I couldn't see his expression. "Hey, what the hell?"

"What is it?" I lay on my bed, stretching and folding my arms behind my head.

He picked something up and stared at it in wonder. I sat straight up, chills running through me.

"I didn't know people still listened to tapes," Kurosaki said, laughing. "Dude, are you still living in the Stone Age or what?"

"Give that to me, right now," I said.

He looked at me and frowned. "You OK? You've gone all whi-"

"Kurosaki, I said _give that to me."_

A couple of seconds passed as he examined me with an unsure look on his face. Cold sweat had broken out across my forehead. He handed over the tape wordlessly and I snatched it away, getting off the bed and throwing the tape into a drawer, which I locked.

"You all right?" Kurosaki asked.

"I'm fine," I snapped.

"Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine. Just. That tape…"

"Is it important or something?"

I breathed out deeply. "Yes. No. Sort of."

"Oh." His voice was halting. A few more torturous seconds passed, then he said, "You know, I really thought no one used tapes anymore, but that reminds me – remember that fight we got into, ages and ages ago? Where you beat up those guys with a baseball bat?"

"Yeah. So?"

"They asked for a tape." He scowled. "They thought I'd stolen one or something. From some guy. Er, Uni…Inu…"

I closed my eyes. "Inugumi?"

"That's it. Man, it was so messed up. I had no idea what they were talking about. All I could think was that they were such idiots if they thought I'd steal a fucking _tape. _I mean, I have _taste. _And an iPod."

"Mmm."

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. It was OK – they hadn't got him. He was still here, Grimmjow. He's OK. He's safe. So stop fucking worrying, or you'll give yourself a heart attack.

I needed to do something about that fucking thing. Throw it away. Burn it. I didn't want it, I didn't know what to do with it, there was so many things that-

"Hey, you coming to bed?"

I heard the rustle of sheets and the creak of springs as Kurosaki settled himself on the bed. His voice was quiet and cautious.

I turned to look at him. He smiled, unsure. I just sighed and joined him. He pulled the sheets over us and lay next to me. My head rested on his bare chest, one of my arms flung over his waist.

The night was slow and silent. I could hear crickets chirping outside. It was getting warmer. Spring. End of school. He'd graduate, and leave.

"Grimmjow?" he whispered.

"Mm."

"I'm not…" His voice dropped. I could feel his heartbeat quicken. "I'm not scared. Not anymore. So…I'll tell everyone. Soon. I promise."

I didn't say anything.

"Is that all right?"

"You'll do what you have to do, I guess," I said. "I don't mind. Take your time."

He hummed a vague, grateful reply and fell silent.

I couldn't go back to sleep. The night was so quiet. One of the windows was open; the curtains fluttered in a slight breeze. The moon was full and its light made Kurosaki's skin shine silver. His eyes were closed and I tilted my head up I could see the movement of his pulse at the junction of his throat. He was already slipping away.

His eyelashes in the moonlight, they looked almost transparent. They were so long, longer than was normal for a guy, anyways. So thick and curly too. I reached up to touch them, and all of a sudden I had a flashback to elementary school, right back to when we'd hated each other.

We were eight. Kurosaki had just been praised by a teacher for some shitty picture he'd drawn, and then she'd leaned down and cooed at him, patted his orange head and commented on how handsome he looked that day and how she wished she had eyelashes as long and as pretty as his. Kurosaki had flushed pink with pleasure and surprise and I remember the resentment and the hatred filling me to the brim, overflowing, until my body twitched with it.

Me and some other guys had cornered him in the toilets at lunch. We surrounded him, trapped him against a wall. I'd held a pair of scissors to his eyes, ready to cut off those long girly disgusting lashes.

I nearly blinded him in my rage. He had been terrified. He'd screwed his eyes shut, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, sobbing that he was sorry and he didn't mean it and he wouldn't do it again, whatever it was.

And now.

Oh, god.

Now, I looked at him. My head was still on his chest, and it moved up and down. His breaths were deep and even and I could feel his heart under my ears, under the layers of skin and muscle and bone, beating hard and strong.

His hand was tangled in my damp hair. He mumbled a little in his sleep.

"Kurosaki?"

I shook him. He grunted and his eyes cracked open.

"Whassit?" he said, sleepily.

"Sorry."

"Huh?"

I moved up until my face was hovering over his. I stared into his eyes. "I said, I'm sorry."

"For what?" he said, confused.

"Everything I did. You know. When we were kids."

Kurosaki blinked again and smiled. "Grimmjow, don't be stupid. I don't care about that stuff anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm. Now, go to sleep, 'm tired."

He shut his eyes and sighed. I leaned down and pressed my lips against his eyelids, then his forehead and the tip of his nose and his mouth, raining kisses all over his face. I could see the tiny smile he was trying to hide.

"Grimmjow?"

"Mm."

"G'night." He kissed the crown of my head and stroked my hair like I was a cat. Shivers ran through my whole body.

I put my head back on his chest. I listened to his breathing. I listened to his heartbeat. I couldn't shut my eyes. I waited, until his chest was moving up and down, deep and even. I waited, staring out into the distance, watching shadows and silver light, my heartbeat like thunder in my ears.

"I love you."

I was a coward. I said it with my mouth pressed against his skin, the words coming out quiet and muffled.

But it didn't matter anyway. Kurosaki hadn't heard me; he was already asleep.


	25. je t'aime

**fore·bod·ing **_noun _

1. a prediction; portent.

2. a strong inner feeling or notion of a future misfortune, evil, etc.; presentiment.

* * *

I only woke up because Grimmjow literally kicked me out of the bed. Somehow I'd turned around in my sleep and my head ended up on the side it was not supposed to be. It was about seven in the morning, and I was lying there, warm and comfortable and having a great dream about being pirate commanding a flock of talking pigeons, when _bam!_ A foot connected with my head and shoved me clean out the fucking bed. Not a nice way to wake up.

Of course it didn't help that I yelled and grabbed the sheets and yanked them off Grimmjow as I fell to the floor. He woke up with a growl, lifting his head up to see why it was so cold. He noticed I wasn't on the bed. He looked over the edge, saw me sprawled out on the floor, holding my head and cursing.

"Kurosaki? The fuck're you doin' down there?" he said, groggy and annoyed.

"You kicked me off!"

"Huh? How the fuck could I do that?"

"Just….argh, forget it." I rubbed my head one last time and glared at him. He responded with a sleepy grin. I collapsed beside him and pulled the sheets back over us, stretching out next to his body as his fingers started tracing idly over my chest.

"Sleep well?" he asked. "Hope your leg's better."

"Yeah, I think it is. And I slept pretty well. Until just now."

"Aw, suck it up bitch."

I smacked his arm. "Fuck you."

"Hah, well. You did. Kinda."

I frowned a little and looked into his smug eyes. Then I thought back. To the last night. The shower.

Oh, holy fuck.

My hand came up to cover my mouth and my eyes went wide. He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"We…yesterday. Here. In…the shower, I mean. We…" I swallowed.

"Yeah."

"I…"

"Uh-huh."

"And then you…"

"Yup."

"Oh my god."

"Is it such a big deal?" I couldn't tell if he was worried or not. But he wasn't smiling anymore.

"It…yeah, it kinda is." My face was heating up. "I've never…you know. Any of that. Before."

"You know, I still can't fucking believe that. You're eighteen fucking years old."

"So? It's not a crime!"

"Yeah it is. It's a crime that we hadn't done that before." He paused. "Was it, like…OK?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "OK? It was fucking amazing."

Grimmjow blinked, then a huge evil smile split his face. "Yeah?"

"Totally. We really need to do that again. Like, soon."

"Fuck yes. I'm not gonna argue with that."

"How about right now?"

"Eh?"

I moved until I was on top of him, straddling his hips. His eyes glanced down. Then back up to me, and shit, the look on his face. If I hadn't wanted to suck his cock before, I sure as hell did now.

"You're always saying practice makes perfect, right?" I said. "So let's get some in before your dad decides to walk in on us again."

"Yeah, he's always – what are you -oh shit-"

Grimmjow clenched his jaw, stifling a moan. His back arched. One of his hands came to cradle the back of my head as I sucked him down, kissing and licking and fondling. It didn't take much for him to get off, and when he came he didn't fucking warn me and just shot his load in my mouth.

He pulled out and grabbed my hair, tugging me up and kissing me hard, his tongue forcing my lips apart, his come dripping into his mouth. He moaned again, low and lustful, grabbing my ass and forcing me on my back. He spread my legs and sucked my dick until I came, did it again and again so that when we stopped and lay on the bed I felt so weak and happy, like I was a feather that only needed a breath of wind to make me float away.

It was unfair, that he could make me feel like that. So free, so happy, like nothing bad had ever happened to me. It scared me. I wondered if what I felt for him would always be this terrifyingly intense. A part of me hoped it would. Another part told me that if it was always this way, I'd end up killing myself out of exhaustion.

We'd only been together for two weeks but already I'd worked out that no matter what the movies said, what people sang about in gooey love songs, relationships were a fuckton of _work. _Me and Grimmjow didn't always get along - hell, we argued every fucking day. Big things. Little things. We shouted and clashed and we'd punched and kicked each other a few times. He was stubborn and proud and short-tempered, hot-headed and he never fucking thought about what he said or did. I was pretty much the same. We were so similar, but at the same time, we were so incredibly different too. I guess it was a good thing. Opposites might attract, but water puts out a fire, right?

And most people would be pretty damn worried if their romantic relationship actually degenerated into physical fights, but for some reason it was OK when it happened between me and him. We never minded, really, the bruises and the cuts and the sore muscles. With Grimmjow, a fight meant nothing. Fighting was practically all he'd been doing for the last eight or nine years. We were used to it. What was weird, was when he got all sappy and soft and cuddly. _That _was weird. I wasn't used to it.

And he wasn't either, which was kinda sad. He'd never had someone to cuddle before, someone to say stupid things to, someone to hold hands with and smile at for nothing. He'd never had a relationship before. So he was in the same boat I was. We were doing all this relationship-stuff for the first time, together. So obviously, things would go wrong.

Somehow, though, even if we'd just blown up at each other barely _minutes_ before, he could just say something stupid like 'I want some grape jelly' and all of a sudden I'd want some grape jelly too. And we'd go out to the store and get some and have it on toast, and that was it. We'd sit on the couch and watch TV, talk, play-fight or something, avoid his dad, and it was all so repetitive and boring I just couldn't imagine my life without it anymore. That sort of feeling, when you've been with someone so long and so often that it feels like they're a part of your body. Maybe not a part you really _need,_ but something you want to keep anyway. He was that to me.

I lay on the bed that morning, after we fooled around, staring at the ceiling. Grimmjow had gone to clean himself up, and when he came back into the room the wispy light from the window just hit his body so perfectly, like in those old Renaissance paintings of angels or some shit, tracing out his muscles, his arms, his legs, dancing off his hair. He looked beautiful. Otherworldly. His expression was grumpy as hell. Obviously, he'd been on the lookout for his dad.

"Grimmjow."

He looked up, at me. "Yeah?"

"C'mere." I sat up, legs swinging over the side of the bed. He walked over slowly and I took the waistband of his jeans when he was close enough, pulled him down until his face was level with mine.

"What is it?" His blue eyes, they were so beautiful. I felt something swelling up inside my chest, almost squeezing everything else out. I took his head in my hands and kissed him, putting everything I had into it. My whole body, my soul, my heart.

I could feel him smiling against my lips and it made me smile, and I thought, this would be a pretty good time to die, I don't think I'll ever be this happy again.

"Kurosaki..." Grimmjow's voice, as he pulled away from me, was suddenly strained and unsteady.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, his face going a weird shade of grey. "About. About last night."

"What about it?"

"Do you...remember anything?"

"Of course I do."

"No, not about _that _- I mean...like things I..." He blinked and scowled fiercely. "Nothing. No. Never mind."

"What? What is it?"

"Nothing, I said!"

When he was in that sort of don't-talk-to-me-or-I'll-eat-your-eyeballs mood, there was no reasoning with him. You had to come in from an unexpected direction to distract him.

"Grimmjow?" My hands were still on his face. I looked straight into his eyes.

His mouth was pressed into a thin, hard line. His eyes glinted dangerously. There was no telling what mood he'd snap into.

"I told you last night, didn't I? I'm gonna tell all my friends soon."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Everyone needs to know how happy you make me."

He breathed in sharply, the angry look from before fading away. I looked at him very seriously. "I know that sounded corny as fuck. But I'm not kidding."

"Shut up. Moron. You always say the most retarded things," Grimmjow muttered, ducking his head. But I could see that his ears were pink and that he was smiling just a tiny bit, and I couldn't help doing the same.

There was something else I wanted to say to him. Something bigger, more important. Some words that I know would change everything. I opened my mouth to say them, but he looked into my eyes and his smile got just a little wider and I thought, what if he doesn't want to hear it? What if he doesn't feel _that_ way?

So I closed my mouth and smiled back, and leaned down to kiss him because somehow I thought that would make me feel better.

This time, there was no flash. His dad had learned his lesson. We didn't know the picture had been taken until the door clicked shut and we heard the giggles from outside. By then, though, Grimmjow had given up. He just swore loudly and hung his head in abject shame, and I couldn't help but laugh.

It took me a few days to arrange a situation where I could tell my friends. It was a Saturday night, I'd hired a big private karaoke room and taken them all there, almost a dozen of them, and we were together again for the first time in months. The room was pretty small and unfortunately it was brightly lit. Everyone, all of my closest friends, were singing and drinking and laughing and having the time of their life. I sat in a corner wringing my hands, waiting for the opportune time, not touching a drop of alcohol so I wouldn't do anything stupid to mess up such an important moment.

But I think they could tell something was bothering me. Rukia and Nell knew the most; they had probably worked it out. The others…well, it was about time for the others to find out.

This was it. The Big Moment.

My mouth felt like the Sahara. My palms were so sweaty I had to keep wiping them on my jeans. All throughout the night, I couldn't muster up even a slightly convincing smile. Everyone could see through me by the end of ten minutes.

Renji, though. Thank god for Renji. He was already tipsy, and he weaved his way over to me and slung an arm around my shoulders. "Yo, Ichi! What's up with the long face? I thought you brought us all out here to enjoy ourselves, eh?"

I tried to smile. "Y-yeah, that's right."

"So tell me what's wrong." He'd sobered up a bit, staring at me with curious eyes. He was still talking far too loudly, though, and now the people around us were listening in.

I froze and looked around at all their faces: Renji and Rukia, Chad, Ishida, Inoue, Tatsuki, all the guys from the Academy I'd been close to, people I'd known for years and years. They were important to me. They needed to know. It wasn't fair, to keep such a secret from the people I trusted the most. I swallowed. Took a sip of water. Cleared my throat, and closed my eyes.

"OK," I said. "I'll admit it. I, uh, called you all here for a reason, you know. But not just, like, to drink and stuff…to tell you…something. Something important."

Shit. OK. Yes, I was going to do this. No going back now, Ichigo.

"Can it wait?" Ikkaku asked impatiently, waving around one of those portable Nintendo things. "I'm about to move on to the next level."

"I wasn't bullshitting you, _Ikku-chan,_ this is important."

He scowled at the girly nickname we'd given him at school and shrugged, signaling for me to go on. Now that he was silent and watching me, everyone else was too.

My palms were so clammy. I rubbed them against my jeans and cleared my throat again, opening my eyes, looking very intently into the middle distance and trying to avoid their gazes. "OK. OK, so, yeah, important. Um. First question: does everyone know who…Grimmjow Jaegerjaques is?"

Rukia and Nell started smirking immediately, while the rest of the room nodded or murmured an affirmative.

"All right," I said. "Um. Second question: does everyone know he's gay?"

I got another 'yes'.

"Right. And does everyone know about the rumor that went around at school years ago that me and him were….that we…that something was going on between us?"

"You mean the rumor that you two were banging?" Rangiku asked, tactful as always. "Yeah, I heard that. Shame it wasn't true."

I knew I was blushing, I could feel the heat spread across my skin. "Ah, yeah, about that…"

"What about it?" Renji said, eyes sharp. Rukia and Nell were staring at me so hard I thought their eyeballs would pop out.

"I brought you all here," I said carefully, "so I could take the time to, uh…_confirm…_that rumor."

For a moment, everyone was silent, and I thought I would have a heart attack.

"What I mean is…" My voice was getting hoarse. I cleared my throat again. Some more water. I refused to be ashamed of what I had with Grimmjow, I absolutely fucking _refused._ "What I mean is, me and him. We're together. As in, _together."_

Another moment of silence.

"Right," said Yumichika.

Shuuhei scratched his head. "Is that it?"

"Well, yeah."

"Oh."

Then they all went back to doing what they had before I'd spoken.

I didn't understand. Hadn't they heard me?

"Guys," I tried again. "I'm in a romantic relationship with another male. Grimmjow. A man."

There was no response.

"Guys? Guys! I'm in a relationship with Grimmjow. _Grimmjow!"_

"No need to shout, man, we heard you the first time," said Ikkaku.

Tatsuki looked nothing less than unimpressed. "Yeah, Ichigo, it's the twenty-first century. Don't go grabbing attention just because you happen to be doing a guy."

"Can you keep it down? I'm trying to study." It was Ishida.

They all stared at me accusingly, as if this admission hadn't had my heart racing and cold sweat breaking out across my whole body. I was, frankly, stunned. I settled for saying, in a slightly strangled voice, "I. Um. OK. You don't…you don't mind?"

Ikkaku snorted. "Mind? Fuck no, we didn't mind when you were a snotty little brat in third grade, we won't mind now when you're a snotty little brat on your way to med school, faggot or not."

"What? I wasn't gay in third grade!"

"You're still not. You like girls too, right?"

I thought about it. Girls still _did _hold a certain appeal. "Yeah, I guess-"

"So you're bisexual," Ishida cut in, reasonable as always, "which doesn't exactly mean you have a _disease_, you know."

"Doesn't mean we'll stop making fun of you, though!" Rangiku chirped.

"Besides, we've always suspected," Yumichika said. "You're camper than a Christmas tree on fire."

"That's rich coming from _you!" _

This was unbelievable. Unfuckingbelievable. I'd been thinking about this, stressing about it, for weeks and weeks and they just accepted it? Wasn't there supposed to be drama? Screams? Horrified glances? Even some, you know, good old-fashioned _surprise?__  
_

"You have to admit, Ichigo, your sexuality's always been a little suspect," Shuuhei said, rubbing his chin. "I mean, you're always obsessing over clothes and fashion. And your hair. You use Herbal Essence. And you _moisturize,_ for chrissakes!"

Oh whatever, like I've never heard that before. "What, is it a crime to care about how you look now! And I've told you, I don't use that shampoo because I want to, Yuzu just buys it-"

"We've all heard it before," Ikkaku said. "But seriously, Ichigo, shut up now. We won't hang you just because you've turned into an ass-pirate all of a sudden."

They were all so completely calm, knocking back their beer like it was water, starting to talk and joke and laugh again. For them, it seemed, nothing had changed. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

I looked around. Nothing had changed. Like I'd dropped a stone into a river, but the water just flowed right around it, completely undisturbed. That's the only thing I could compare it to. My friends didn't give a shit, and I felt like the weight of the world had been taken off my shoulders. I was still reeling from their nonchalant reaction, but I found that I could breathe easily for the first time in weeks.

But then I caught sight of Renji. He'd stayed completely silent throughout the whole thing and right now he was staring hard at the floor, frowning. My heart dropped, but I walked to him anyway. Everyone else tactfully turned away and pretended not to be there.

"Renji?"

He looked up at the sound of my voice, but didn't smile like he usually would have. "Yeah, Ichigo?"

"Are you…are you OK with this?" I gestured helplessly.

Not him. Not Renji. If anyone else had been disgusted with me, I might've lived through it without a problem. But not Renji.

He took his time answering, and didn't look at me when he did. "I can't say I'm shocked. Everyone kinda thought you two were…with each other. For a long time now. We were gonna place bets on it but that sounded a bit stupid. He always made you act a little weird, you know that? Always made you think about him more than you did about anything else. It was…obvious, really."

"Was it?"

"Yeah. I mean, you hang out more with him than you do with me. For months, now. I hardly see you except at school and at soccer practice, and you always disappear after. We never hang out anymore, we don't go out and do shit like we used to. It's like you don't even want me as a _friend_ anymore, like he's taken you away-"

Renji stopped himself, taking a deep breath. I sat down next to him. I knew there was anguish on my face; I'd known I hadn't seen my other friends as much as I'd used to. But I hadn't thought it would ever be this bad. I didn't know I'd been _neglecting _them like this.

"And…" Renji swallowed thickly, bowed his head.

"And…?"

"I saw you two," he said. "At the soccer match. And…I knew then. It was obvious. You two were, like, glued to each other."

I could see the hurt and the jealousy clearly, in every line of his body. The quietness of his voice cut me more deeply than if he'd shouted. I didn't know whether to reach out to him, to touch him or not. He seemed so far away.

"Renji…"

He looked up at me, and his expression softened at the look on my face. Not much, but it was enough. And all I wanted to say to him, I could never say with words alone. "Renji, I'm so sorry. I am. I…"

"Don't be sorry, moron," he said. "Never be _sorry. _Not if you're happy with him. Are you happy?"

I smiled. "Really happy."

He smiled back weakly. "Then I'm happy. Or, I'll try to be. Right now though, I fucking hate the bastard."

I couldn't help myself. I pulled him to me in a tight hug and whispered in his ear: "This'll sound gay, but I'm a roll here."

"Well, I'm kind of drunk, so I probably won't remember," he answered, putting his arms around my waist and dropping his head onto my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and laughed. "I love you, Abarai Renji. You're family, and no girl or guy will ever be able to replace you. You know that."

"I know." His voice sounded weird. I hugged him closer.

"Aren't ya gonna tell me you love me too?"

Renji sighed and pulled back to look at me, eyebrow raised. "I wouldn't be telling you anything you didn't know already, idiot."

It sounds sappy, but I got a lump in my throat and couldn't answer him. But I don't think anything more needed to be said, in any case. For the rest of that evening, I didn't leave his side. It was the least I could do to pay him back. Everyone else got good and drunk and I'm sure the night passed in a rainbow-colored blur for them, but me and Renji, we stayed and sat there, silent and watching. I didn't hold his hand. I didn't rest my head on his shoulder. That was for Grimmjow, and Renji knew that, even if he didn't like it.

I thought about him. My relationship with Renji, these ten long and indescribably fun years of being his friend. All the things we'd done, the memories we shared. Accidentally setting the picnic tables at the park on fire. Blowing up the toilets at school. The pranks, the nights spent staying up and eating and talking and trash-talking teachers, the innumerable times he copied my Math homework, and when I covered for him in class that day he skipped school to see the latest _Saw_ movie.

Detentions together. Messing around in the Chemistry lab. Me beating him at martial arts for the first time. Us being the best in the class, being the stars, being a _team._

There were so many things I could recall just from the top of my head, without any prompting at all. The laughter and the arguments, hanging out, eating together, playing soccer together. The way he could just tell with a single look what kind of mood I was in. The way he used to goad me into playing basketball when I was irritated at something and wouldn't tell anyone about it, until I was so exhausted from playing that it didn't take much for me to spill even my innermost secrets.

Somehow, during the years, things had changed. We weren't as close as we used to be. The realization hurt, and I resented it, but I knew it wasn't like there was a_ wall_ between us - more like, we'd changed. As people. Grown up, and become different. Become...mature. Not stupid little pre-teen boys trying to get an easy laugh by talking back to teachers.

I looked at Renji, at his ridiculous bright red hair, the tattoos he'd somehow managed to get away with at school. He should have been grinning, should have been loud and obnoxious like usual, but he was so quiet tonight it almost scared me. And I promised to myself, it wouldn't happen anymore. I'd still spend time with him. I wouldn't ever let him stop being friends with me. I couldn't let us become the people that meet up at a reunion ten years after graduation and reminisce about old times, with nothing new to say. Awkward, uncomfortable, saying quick goodbyes and sighing with relief as we went our separate ways.

No. Not with him. Not with Chad, or Rukia, or any of my other friends. They'd known a part of me no one else could ever know, the scared and lonely little boy that'd first come to the Shinigami Academy as a nine-year-old child that had just lost his mother and been expelled from school. Someone closed up, defensive and standoffish and damaged and frightened of getting close to anyone, just in case they were ripped away again.

Even though I was insufferable, they had still been my friends. They'd stood beside me all this time, helping me, laughing with me, supporting me. What would I have been, without them?

His shoulder was touching mine. The corners of his lips were dipping down. But he looked up and met my eyes, and this time when I smiled, he smiled back, and it looked stronger.

It filled my heart in a rush, the warmth I felt at moments like those.

These people were special to me. Renji was special to me, in a way no one else was. In a way no one else could be. Not even Grimmjow, no matter what I felt for him.

* * *

**_Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies._**** ~ Aristotle**

* * *

He'd wanted to wait. To plan. To get them at the perfect moment and tell them, and then he said it would be official. It would be real. We'd be An Item.

Personally I didn't give a flying fuck about his friends' reactions to the news, but Kurosaki did. And it seriously tested my patience, let me tell you that, because it took too long for it to all come out into the open. But for him, I waited.

Apparently, when the time came, it went unbelievably smoothly. He told me that everyone gave him their blessing, even Abarai.

Well. Kind of.

After that, Kurosaki finally seemed…lighter. Happier. He'd gotten all his secrets off his chest and he was ready to live his life to the fullest. Or that's what he said.

So of course to me, that meant taking it to the next level.

We'd fool around - make out and jerk each other off and blow each other and shit, but we'd not gone all out and fucked. He'd freak out. It pissed me off at first, till I remembered he'd only came round to this whole being-gay thing relatively recently, while I'd had years of practice. In a moment of weakness (or maybe I was wasted?) I confessed the problem to Nelliel, and she told me that I was being an impatient and pushy asshole, I needed to slow down and make him feel comfortable etc etc etc. So I thought about it. Then I asked Kurosaki what he thought.

"What do I think about what?" he answered, in a sleepy voice.

"About sex, of course."

He mumbled something incoherent. We were at my place, stretched out on the sofa and watching some shitty movie about giant super-powered sharks. All I could think about was the feel of his skin against my fingertips, dragging them slowly up and down his stomach. I brought my head down and licked the shell of his ear, and he shivered a little.

"S-sex?"

"Yeah. Sex. Maybe you've heard of it." My hand slid upwards, thumb stroking over one hard nipple. I heard a shaky little breath escape his mouth. There was a bulge straining at the crotch of his jeans, and I reached down and squeezed it.

"Grimmjow!"

I started kissing his neck. "Mmm, I like your voice like that."

"Grimmjow, wait. _Wait!"_

His voice was breathless and frustrated. I started getting irritated too. "What? What the fuck's wrong _now?"_

"Don't just jump into things!" Kurosaki said shakily. "I want – I want to_ talk_ about this, at least. I mean, what brought this on right now, this whole sex thing?

"Dunno. Sharks make me horny?"

Kurosaki shifted around until he was facing me, frowning. "Look, let's go to your room and talk about this. Your dad's probably gonna walk in. We need somewhere private."

At least he wanted to talk about it. It was a start. Seriously, I'd never met such a fucking prude in all my life: when I stared at his ass or imagined him naked or told him how hot he looked and how much I just wanted to jump him and start fucking him (OK, from me, that's the best compliment you're gonna get) he'd turn as red as a tomato and kick me. And Kurosaki has a kick like a fucking horse.

So we went up to my room and I slammed the door closed, then fell back onto my bed. I didn't look at him. My jaw was clenched and he could tell I was pissed without really having to try. "I'm not a fucking chick, Kurosaki, so this won't last long. Fucking talk."

He sat down next to me and glared, digging his heels against the floor. "Look Grimmjow, don't get mad. I've never…I've never done this before, OK? Especially not with a…with a guy."

"And I've never wanted to have sex with someone this bad. Are we even?"

"Am I supposed to be flattered?"

"_Are_ you flattered?"

"Well. Kind of. You…" Kurosaki cut himself off and sighed, looking troubled and a little frightened. Somehow the look on his face made my bad mood melt away. He seemed so fucking helpless – if he'd been anyone else, I'd have struck there, right at their weakest moment. But not him.

"Grimmjow…you're…you're not a virgin, are you?"

"Nope."

"How…many people have you…you know?" His hands curled into fists on his lap.

"You want a precise number or what?"

"Stop questioning my questions and just answer!"

I huffed and thought about it. Huh. Almost six years of being sexually active...not giving a shit about relationships and just fucking anyone who looked at me right…it kind of added up, now that I thought about it.

"Maybe a hundred or somethin'?"

I thought he'd fall off the bed. _"What?"_

"What?" I asked. "Isn't that, like, normal?"

"No!" he shouted. "It's…of course it's not…I- just how long have you not been a virgin, anyway?"

"Eh, 'bout six or seven years ago, now."

Kurosaki's face went white. "Wha- twelve? _You were twelve years old?"_

"Impressive math skills, there, Kurosaki. You worked that one out pretty fast."

He was so fucking amazed that he could only splutter and gurgle for a few moments, then said, "That- that's terrible, Grimmjow! I mean, this isn't normal." He shook his head, eyes wide. "Jeez, even Renji…even _he_ hasn't…and I thought he got around…twelve?"

"Hey man, chill. It's not like it would've made a difference, I've been legal since I was thirteen."

"So what? Fuck , my _sisters _are older than that!"

"You should be keeping an eye on them then, shouldn't you?" I snapped. "Shit, calm down. It's over, it's done, it's in the past. What's the big problem?"

"I…well, I…"

"_What?"_

"How can I…" Kurosaki cleared his throat, hunching up and turning pink. "How can I…match up?"

"Match up? To what?"

"To…to the other people you've…had." His voice sounded so small.

"You mean, you think I'd compare you to people I've fucked before?"

He scowled furiously. "If you want to put it like that-"

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"I don't know! I'm not experienced like you, asshole, I don't know what I'm doing. I…like I said, I've never done this before, especially with a guy! How can I be any _good _at…at this whole sex thing?"

I didn't answer, just crawled up to him and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me. I could see anger and worry and fright all pooled together in those pretty brown eyes of his. And I realized that he wasn't anything better than a kid when it came to this sorta shit.

Ah fuck, Nelliel was right. I hated it when that happened.

"I wouldn't compare you to anyone else," I told him, "'cause you're better than all of 'em put together without even trying."

He blushed and tried to turn away. I didn't let him.

"I'm not even fucking with you, Kurosaki. They meant nothing. But you…now that I got what I wanted for so long, you think I'll just let it go 'cuz you haven't been with anyone else? See, to me, that just makes the whole thing better."

The grip on his chin tightened 'til he was forced to meet my eyes. Kurosaki opened his mouth, glanced at me quickly; in an unsure voice he asked, "So you don't mind if…if we…if I'm not that great?"

"Don't be a retard. I'm not worried. Why should you be?"

"Because I hate this!" he spat, anger rearing up all of a sudden. "I hate this, being so fucking…like a _child…"_

"We all gotta start somewhere. You're just at the beginning of the path, and you need a guide. So you should let me lead you on your way."

He looked at me weird for a second, then a little smile curved his lips. "You know, sometimes you come out with really deep stuff at the most ridiculous moments. It's, uh…it's kinda hot."

"Never woulda thought philosophy could be a turn-on."

"A little thoughtfulness always goes a long way, Grimmjow."

"…Does that mean if I whispered dirty talk in your ear about metaphysics and epistemology, you'd blow me right now?"

"Nice try." But he was still smiling. He leaned forward a bit until his nose bumped against mine, moved his head to the side and pressed a little kiss against my lips. It was slow and gentle and I'd never thought I'd enjoy something so innocent so much.

"Is that a no?" I asked when he pulled away. My voice came out a little breathy. My vision was blurred.

"Man, do you _ever_ give up?"

"Not when it comes to you."

He tried to smile, but it faltered. He said, "Grimmjow, this whole…sex thing…"

"Yeah?"

"Like…you'd…fuck me, like…" He coughed and gestured, face red.

"In the ass? Yeah."

"Way to make it sound sanitary."

"Shut the fuck up, sex isn't sanitary. It's dirty and messy and disgusting, you know that fine. And anyway, we don't _have _to do it. The sex, I mean. There're plenty of gay guys who aren't into that sorta stuff."

"Eh? Really?"

"Well, yeah. Just like there's some straight guys who like getting fucked in the ass but who ain't faggots. It depends."

"Is it…uh, does…does it feel good?" He was staring at me anxiously, fingers digging into the sheets.

"It feels kinda weird the first few times. But then it gets awesome." I grinned widely. He blushed.

"Oh. Hm. Well. I…"

"Wanna try it?"

Kurosaki's eyes went wide.

"Not like, the real thing," I said quickly, backtracking. "I could just…well…give you a taste, so to speak."

His face went completely red, and I couldn't help the wicked smile that spread across my face. He bit his lip, and the corners of his lips twitched into an embarrassed smile.

"Yeah, OK."

I paused. "Really?"

"Yeah. I guess I won't know if I don't like it or not if we don't try it, you know." He was still blushing but it was fading, and the look in his eyes was intrigued and excited more than anything else now. My heartbeat started picking up.

Shit, we were really gonna do this.

Kurosaki initiated it. He kept doing that, and it kept surprising me, 'cuz I always expected him to be some sorta frigid prude.

But seriously. When he got into it, he got _really _into it. This time he put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me, lightly at first, making it harder and deeper as I smothered a moan and drew him closer. His tongue slipped into my mouth and he pulled on my hair roughly, hands sliding down and tugging off my clothes. We were naked in minutes, lying on the bed with him under me, kissing and sucking and groaning and biting.

I sucked him off, swallowing his hot come as he peaked, arching his back and crying out. I kissed his thighs, lips sliding against the sweaty skin, my hands were pushing him back against the bed, spreading his legs wide. He was panting and squirming, thrashing his head against the pillows. I could feel its claws prickling up my back, my neck, my vision going darker, the animal that always took me over when I was having sex like this.

"Fuck…" Kurosaki's mouth had fallen open, his eyes were shut. A blush darkened on his cheekbones. "Oh, fuck, Grimmjow-"

"Yeah, I'll fuck you," I said, moving up to whisper in his ear. "I'll fuck you good and hard, but not with my cock, right? With my fingers. And you'll fucking enjoy it."

"Mm, yeah, yeah-"

"You know why?"

"Why?" he gasped, as I grabbed his hard cock and squeezed.

"'Cuz you're a slut, that's why," I hissed, baring my teeth.

Kurosaki opened his eyes. They were so dark, for a second I thought they'd changed color to black. I squeezed harder, and they rolled to the back of his head.

"Yeah," he panted. "Oh shit, yes."

"Say it."

"I…I…"

One long, slow lick up his erection, swirling my tongue around the head, teasing the slit and sucking on the precome there. He gave an agonized groan, legs falling wider apart.

"Don't – Grimmjow, don't stop, don't, fuck, hunh-"

"Say it, Kurosaki. You're a slut." I reached for the lube. I kept it under my bed, in a locked box with all the other things I needed for sex.

"I'm…I'm a slut." His voice was broken, stammering.

Oh, shit, yes. "Again. Say it again."

"I'm a slut," he breathed. "Disgusting little slut, fuck, ugh…"

My dick was swollen and rock-hard, but right now it was about him. I popped open the bottle cap and poured the lube onto my fingers. He was probably so tight I'd need most of it.

Fuck, I'd get to be inside him. At long fucking last.

I let my tongue trail over the base of his cock, over his balls, until I got to his sensitive, pink entrance. His muscles were clenching and relaxing, he was shuddering, moaning, writhing under me. I circled one wet finger around the muscle, and I could hear him breathe in sharply.

"I'm gonna fuck you, now," I said, in a ragged voice, and slid my finger into him.

Slowly. So fucking slowly, just until the first knuckle so he could get used to it. He made some weird noise, something between a whine and a groan, and holy fuck was it hot.

"Grimm…mmph, ugh, that – feels weird-"

"Told ya it would," I mumbled. Shit, he was so damn tight. I couldn't wait to get my cock in him. So fucking tight.

I pushed inside him more. Second knuckle. I wriggled my finger around, just a bit, and he gasped.

"Still weird?" I asked.

"No – no, ohhhh, oh my god. D-do it again."

I did it again, face against his thigh, watching myself inside him. I slipped deeper inside him. He was looser now, hornier, getting to enjoy it. My finger was in him as deep as it could go, and I crooked it a little, rubbing up against the hot tight muscle. I brushed up against something, a little spot that had him arching and spasming and stuffing his fist in his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

Aha, got it.

"Oh shit, ohhh fuck, Grimmjow what was that, what the fuck was that?" Kurosaki's voice was low and broken, desperate.

"Prostate gland."

"Pro…what? Ugh, shit, do it again, do it again, fucking _hell!"_

I rubbed against it again, just gently, and his breathing caught.

"I said _prostate gland_, idiot." I tried to sound disappointed. It didn't work. I was too breathless and horny. "You're gonna be a med student, you should know what it is."

"I...shit, I _know_ what it is!" he snarled, clenching around me. I just stopped myself from whining in pleasure, instead choosing to press against that little gland again, harder this time. His whole body was shaking.

"Then what is it, eh? Educate me," I drawled.

I saw him swallow, frown, try to gather his wits to answer the question. "It…uh…it, it helps with semen production…fuck-"

"And…?" Again. Harder. Longer. I licked up the length of his erection, flicking the tip of my tongue at that spot on the underside of the head.

"Oh god-"

"I want you to _educate_ me, Kurosaki," I said, in between deep shuddering breaths, giving little sucking kisses to the head of his dick. "Thought…thought you were…meant to be smart. Little things like this shouldn't…distract you."

"Mmph, stop fucking me and I'll tell you!"

"Not likely to happen." I slid my finger out of him, traced over his entrance teasingly, then plunged back in with a slick noise. I thought he'd stop breathing.

"Fuck!" he cried, arching his back off the bed. "Yeah, OK, prostate gland. OK. It…it produces. Sugar. Fructose. To keep the sperm alive, after you – after you come. I think."

"You _think?"_ I swallowed, licked my lips. It was so hard to talk. I fucked him with my finger again, faster, harder. "That ain't very reassuring. Dunno if I'd want you for a doctor."

"I can't _think!" _His hands were on my back, clawing at the skin, digging into it sharply.

"Try."

"Dunno," he whined. "Can't remember. Don't care. Just _fuck_ me, all right?"

Ah, how could I say no to that?

I shoved my finger back into him roughly and his hips bucked. His cock was swollen and red and throbbing against his stomach and I took it into my mouth, sucking hard. I added another finger, slid it in bit by bit, until he was used to the feeling of two of them inside him, fucking him. I sucked, and let his dick slide out of my mouth, leaving it wet. He breathed out, shakily.

"Like that?" I hissed, thrusting inside him at a brutal pace.

"Yes, yes I like it, I love it-"

"Tell me why."

"Because I'm a slut." His voice cracked.

"That's right, Kurosaki, you're a slut. A dirty, disgusting little whore. Aren't you?"

"Y-yes – hunh, oh shit, oh god-"

One of his legs lifted and slid up over my shoulder, the other stretched out to the side, while I thrust my fingers inside him again and again, as far as they go could. I pushed, lifting his ass up.

"Say it, Kurosaki. Fucking say it."

He tried, licking his lips. Opened his mouth. His eyes were rolling to the back of his head.

I smacked his ass, hard. Kurosaki swore under his breath and threw his head back, growling, "Whore, I'm a whore, a – a dirty, dirty whore oh _shit…"_

Another smack to the ass and his hips twisted. I sucked his cock down again. His muscles tightened mercilessly around me and I groaned. He came in just a few seconds, shooting streams of come down my throat, grabbing my hair and almost pulling my scalp right off.

Fuck it, I loved when he hurt me like that. I could feel myself getting close, my dick leaking as he spilled himself in my mouth. I reached down to jerk myself off and it didn't take long at all, I was spurting all over my hand and the sheets, dripping over my fingers, his spent cock softening inside my mouth.

How we untangled ourselves from the mess of legs and arms and bodies I don't even know. Everything was a mess. The bed, his hair and mine, bodies covered in spit and lube and sweat and come.

We fell apart and lay on our backs, trying to get our hearts back to normal. Shadows darkened, and the sun moved on its course. After a while…

"So," Kurosaki said, still a little breathless. "That was awesome."

"Hell yes."

Some more silence. It wasn't strained, not expectant or anything like that. We were just lying there, light and content. My chest was heaving. I could have fallen asleep so easily, but my blood was still singing with the memory of what we'd just done.

After a bit, Kurosaki turned to lie on his side, scooting closer and looking at me with a serious expression on his face. "Um. Grimmjow. Er…"

"Yeah?"

"I think…I'm…I'm more OK with the thought of…you know." His face went a little pink. "That was – what we just did. It was fun. Is it usually like that?"

"Depends. But…" I thought about it. What I wanted to say was, it'd never been so good for me before. I'd never wanted anyone so much in my life. I'd never felt like that during sex. But I didn't know if that would reassure him or not, so I just said, "Yeah. Usually."

He smiled. "OK, then."

"Wanna fuck now?"

"No, I feel gross. Shower?"

"Can we fuck in it?"

He laughed and kissed me, his body lean and strong and hard against me. The feeling of his hands in my hair, around my waist, was one I'd never get used to, would never forget. I wished it could have lasted forever.

Nothing ever does, of course. I should have known that.

And _he_ found out.

Aizen did.

That's when it all started going downhill.


	26. hatred so strong, so foul

A beautiful day. Warm, summery at the edge; he could see the balmy blue sky stretch on and on. He really did have a wonderful view from his office window.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Someone stepped inside and the door closed behind them with a quiet _click._

"Good morning, sir."

It was Ulquiorra. His finest. His most loyal. Aizen Sousuke turned to the pale man, a warm smile gracing his lips.

"Yes, Ulquiorra?"

Wordlessly Ulquiorra Schiffer withdrew a large envelope from within the confines of his white coat and placed it gently on Aizen's desk. He stood back, face blank, arms crossed behind his back.

Aizen cocked his head a fraction, before picking the envelope up and pulling out a large stack of photos. He flipped through the first half-dozen.

They were all photographs of Grimmjow, from different angles and distances. In every one, he was accompanied by someone else: a tall, handsome orange-haired teenage boy. They were almost always smiling at each other, and Aizen noted absentmindedly that he had never seen his subordinate look so carefree and content.

The look in Grimmjow's eyes whenever he directed his gaze at that other boy – it was unmistakable.

"So this is why he's acting so strangely, is it?" Aizen asked, still smiling. "He has a little friend?" Something darkly amused flashed in his eyes.

"I had him followed," said Ulquiorra. "I know it was forward of me, but I've been noticing his odd behavior these last few months. He's been shirking his duties far too often. He hasn't been at all interested in working or meeting contacts or organizing jobs, and he's dropped down so low in the rankings that he's in triple digits. I was suspicious. Please forgive me."

"No no, that's all right. I understand. This is very…interesting. Who's the other boy?"

"I had him searched. His name is Kurosaki Ichigo. They've known each other a long time."

"Oh?"

"Since they were six years old. They used to be rivals and enemies, or so I heard. But now-"

"They're friends, obviously. Or maybe more, perhaps. Does this Kurosaki know of dear Grimmjow's…preferences?"

Ulquiorra said nothing, but his expression was taut with disapproval. He stared hard at the pictures. Aizen raised an eyebrow and flipped until he reached the last photograph.

"Ah," he said.

In all the others, Grimmjow and the Kurosaki boy stood close together, often touching in some small and discreet way that hinted at something beyond friendship, but in _this..._

Hidden away in a shadowy alcove, the two were locked in a passionate kiss, arms tight around each other. Grimmjow had a hand fisted in Kurosaki Ichigo's orange hair, while the other hand was wound tight around his waist. It was a deep, desperate, fervent embrace; both of them seemed to be paying no attention to anything else other than each other. It was an extremely intimate moment; they were pressed so close to one another that it was hard to tell who was who.

"Well now," said Aizen slowly, scanning the image very closely. "This is intriguing. _Very _intriguing. His name is Kurosaki Ichigo, did you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Find out everything you can about him, and do it now."

Ulquiorra bowed shortly, recognizing the dismissal. "Yes, sir."

He turned on his heel and left, the plush carpet muting his steps. With his departure the office was silent. Aizen picked up the last photograph and gazed at it speculatively. The dark gleam flickered in his eyes again.

Was this the explanation for Grimmjow's unusual behavior? For months now, he had been oddly quiet and reserved, taking no risky jobs, treading carefully, trying to put himself in as little danger as possible; he was calm and controlled and followed orders without back-talk, something Aizen was very much not used to. It was a pleasant surprise, but it had aroused his suspicion long before today; he had never thought to pin it down to _this, _however.

This boy. This Kurosaki Ichigo. Obviously, they were much more than friends. And if the peculiar, intense emotion that shone like a beacon from Grimmjow's eyes whenever he looked at Kurosaki was what Aizen thought it was, then the whole situation made for some very, very interesting thinking.

He sat in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes shadowed and reflective.

Yes, he decided. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. What kind of employer would he be if he didn't offer his workers a few _challenges _now and then?

Humming a quiet song under his breath, Aizen poured himself a cup of tea and turned back to the beautiful skyline, smiling secretively, mind plotting.

* * *

**_The courses of true love never did run smooth _****~ William Shakespeare**

* * *

It wasn't often that Aizen called me to his HQ in Tokyo, but when he did, there was no fucking way in hell that I could refuse.

So I made my excuses to dad and trooped up there, grumpy as fuck. I was hungover, craving a smoke, and really, really hungry. The traffic was fucking awful too – one of Aizen's lackeys was driving me to his office, someone I'd never seen before – and I almost crushed out my cigarette on their fucking face when they asked me to stop smoking.

I threw it out the window when I was finished, then I stretched out on the back seat and threw my arm over my eyes, trying to get some sleep. It was too bright outside. Fucking sun. I tried to keep my mind clear but I kept on seeing orange hair. Brown eyes. That mouth, smiling at me, laughing, kissing me-

"Sir, we're here," a voice interrupted.

I sat up and scowled at the driver, some frightened-looking scrawny kid with a mountain range of pimples running across his forehead. "What? That fast?"

"Er, you were asleep-"

"Whatever." I got out and slammed the door closed, lighting another smoke and looking around. Men and women were running around on the street, blank-faced and obviously about to have heart attacks any second. I was surrounded by huge skyscrapers, incased in shining glass; the one nearest to me wasn't the tallest, but Aizen knew the power of _aesthetics,_ and it was most definitely the classiest-looking.

That assbag never needed big, flashy words to show off his authority. As soon as he looked at you, spoke to you, you were pretty much under his control. I swear that man had trained as a hypnotist in a former life.

I went inside, entered a huge foyer with marble floors and walls and gigantic, exotic potted plants. Someone met me at the desk at the back, took me to an elevator marked 'private', and we travelled to the top floor in absolute silence. The smoke that puffed out from my nostrils floated upwards and gathered into a cloud. I enjoyed the disgruntled look on their face when I crushed the cigarette out on the plush red carpet with my heel.

Aizen's room wasn't huge and intimidating. He liked small, cozy spaces in which to force his will onto his subordinates. He sat behind his desk, hands clasped in front of him on the polished wood, standing and smiling at me as I came in.

"Ah, Grimmjow," he said, in a voice like honey, brown eyes warm. "It feels like I haven't seen you in so long. How have you been?"

I plopped down onto the cushy chair in front of his desk and shrugged. "Fine."

"Fine? Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"How's the heroin addiction? Under control, I hope?"

I gritted my teeth. "Yes."

"Good, good." He sat back down, and poured a cup of tea from the old-fashioned china teapot steaming gently next to a large stack of paperwork. "Tea? No? All right then."

He took a sip, watching me all the while. He stared at me more intently than I was comfortable with, but I didn't crumble under him. I stared straight back, unfazed, and I thought I saw him smile.

"How's your father, your mother?" he asked, after a couple of minutes of silence, his eyes searching me. "Are they also doing well? And your schoolwork – I heard you've been taking much more of an interest in your education. No? All right then. Any plans for after you leave school?"

"No. I don't go to school anyway, I won't graduate. So I dunno what I wanna do. Or what I _can_ do, even."

Aizen really _did _smile this time, which creeped me out. But it wasn't a kind fatherly smile; it was a shark-smile, cold and calculating. All of a sudden his whole appearance changed, and he said, "You know, that's exactly what I hoped you were going to say."

"Yeah?"

"That's right." The smile dropped and he looked at me very seriously. "Tell me this, Grimmjow, how old are you now?"

"Eighteen. Almost nineteen."

"And how long have you worked for me?"

I thought about it, said, "Uh, six or seven years. I think."

"Seven years," he murmured. "Seven years. That's a pretty long time. And Grimmjow, what have you done for me in those seven years?"

I didn't know if it was a trick question or if he'd suddenly gotten brain damage, "I…help. With stuff. You know."

"Such as?"

I didn't like saying it out loud. Fuck, did he want a fucking list? "Money laundering, embezzlement, burglaries, intimidation-"

"That's right," he cut in smoothly, smile back on his face, chin propped up on a fist. "And have you ever beaten anybody?"

"Well, yeah."

"Shot anybody?"

"Yeah."

"Killed anybody?"

I froze. "What?"

"It's just a question, Grimmjow," he said softly, watching me. "Answer it."

I breathed. In, out. In, out. The taste of my cigarette still lay thick and heavy on my tongue, and it was suddenly making me feel sick.

"No," I answered after a moment, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "I haven't ever killed anyone."

Aizen's eyes gleamed, and he said, "Well, now. We'll have to change that."

I didn't think I'd heard right. I opened my mouth to say something, but his intercom buzzed and I didn't say a word, head spinning.

Aizen pressed a button, never looking away from me and addressing his secretary, "What is it, Hinamori-kun?"

"_Ah, sir, I'm so sorry to bother you, but-"_

"Are they here? I have an important meeting, Hinamori-kun. Send them through."

"_O-oh, I'm so sorry sir, I didn't see them in the appointment book, I thought-"_

"It's quite all right. But thank you for your vigilance."

"_Yes, sir, you're welcome."_

Fuck. I knew who he was talking about – his two sidekicks, Tousen Kaname and Ichimaru Gin. Neither of them ever needed an appointment to see him.

I loathed them. Both of them. Couldn't decide which one I hated more: Ichimaru had such a creepy fucking face, if I'd been a kid the monster under my bed would've looked like him. But on the other hand, just being around the other one (I fucking hated even saying his name) was enough to piss me off. He was like Ulquiorra. He looked down on me, thought I was worthless, dangerous, trash.

Fucking asshole. Even from the day I met him, all I'd ever wanted to do was shove my hand through his stomach and rip his guts out.

"So, Grimmjow."

Aizen's voice had me snapping back to reality. He was staring at me again, looking vaguely amused. But then he turned serious again and said, "Do you know why I chose you, Grimmjow, seven years ago? You, out of every other boy – older, more experienced, more brutal, more helpful boys? Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because…" He leaned forward, gaze intense. "Because I could feel that you would one day be a great asset, Grimmjow. I had Nnoitra follow you before I met you, you see, and what he reported back to me was very interesting. You had anger. You had passion. You had intelligence, cunning, resourcefulness - and I know that you think I'm overestimating you, I can see the doubt, but…" He paused. "Do you remember what I told you when we first met, Grimmjow?"

_I know who you are._

"Do you remember, Grimmjow?"

_You could be great._

_Someone strong._

"No," I said. "I don't."

He smiled at me gently. "You don't?"

_Unbeatable._

_A king._

"No." I closed my eyes.

"That's a shame. A real shame."

_No one could hurt you._

Too late, asshole.

"Because, Grimmjow, I have a proposition."

He kept on saying my name, and I didn't like it. The tone of his voice made me feel like my chest was being squeezed by an iron hand. I didn't want to hear it. I woulda gotten up there and then and left without a backwards look - but the door opened and someone stepped in, greeted Aizen in a familiar slow drawl, and I felt the grip tighten around my ribs.

"Ah, an' Grimmjow-kun's here too! Seems like we're gonna have ourselves a real party, eh cap'n?"

I never knew why Ichimaru called Aizen 'captain'. I didn't want to know. I didn't give a shit. I just wanted to get out of there.

"Aizen-sama, are you sure it's wise to have him here?" Tousen said.

Fuck you, you stupid stuck-up prick.

"Grimmjow is going to be joining us today," Aizen said, "because I feel that I've been too harsh on him these last few years. I think, Kaname, that Grimmjow is ready to…progress."

They looked at me – or at least, their faces pointed in my direction. I'd never seen Ichimaru with his eyes open. They were always slitted, which made him look like a fox, and I didn't like looking at him more than I had to. And Tousen was blind as a bat, so I had no idea how the fuck he knew where I was sitting.

"_Progress,_ eh?" Ichimaru said. "Took ya long enough."

"There were problems," said Aizen, "of the narcotic kind."

"Aha, yeah, forgot about them."

Aizen stood, straightened out his suit and pulled on an expensive-looking coat. The other two waited for him patiently, already dressed. I was wearing a pair of ragged jeans and one of Kurosaki's shirts. I rubbed my thumb against the hem. It smelled like him, and that calmed me down a little. Whatever we were going to do now, I was probably underdressed.

I had some ideas about what was going to happen then. Just a few.

As it happened, they really didn't match up to reality. Just goes to show you, life always manages to be surprising somehow.

"Well, now, let's go," said Aizen, and he swept out with his bitches at his side. I kept a little way behind them, wondering what the fuck was going on. We took the elevator down to the foyer and someone led us to a black car outside. It was exactly what you would expect: sleek, shiny and disgustingly expensive.

Aizen drove, Ichimaru sitting beside him. I sat in the back, next to Tousen, pressed close to one of the windows so I didn't have to touch him. We travelled for about half an hour on the expressway, none of us saying a word, and it wasn't until the skyscrapers had disappeared and been replaced with run-down condos that we slowed down. Aizen killed the engine outside one that looked particularly shitty.

"So now, Grimmjow," he said, "you'll see what I really do."

It sounded ominous.

"Wait here," Aizen ordered. "Gin, Tousen, come with me."

Aw fuck, what the actual fucking shit had I gotten myself into now.

I waited in that hot, stuffy car for at least ten or so minutes, almost driving myself mad trying to think what would happen next. They'd gone into the condo. I heard the sounds of furniture breaking, glass being shattered, a scream that was cut off too soon, and I was just about to jump out and get the fuck away when the door to the car opened and someone was thrown in.

It was a short, sweaty guy, with too many tattoos and a bad haircut. He was leaking blood all over the backseat. I hoped he hadn't splashed me, this was one of Kurosaki's favorite shirts, and he'd only lent it to me on the condition that I treated it like I'd treat my firstborn son. No matter that it was doubtful I'd ever have one, but he could be retarded at times.

They got back in. Aizen started the engine but didn't slam his foot down: instead, we drove away at a leisurely, casual pace. I didn't look at anyone. I stared out of the window, completely blank and trying not to think.

A few minutes later we pulled up outside that most beloved setting of clichéd crime movies – the abandoned warehouse. Only, as you can guess, it wasn't so fucking abandoned. I could see at least half a dozen guys in suits patrolling the perimeter, armed to the teeth. Aizen got out, me, Tousen and Ichimaru followed, and someone pulled the stranger out of the car. He was dragged behind us. I heard him starting to groan and whimper, but I didn't listen. I didn't care. I wanted this to be over.

Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths, Grimmjow.

The inside of the warehouse was stacked with wooden crates, but there was a little cleared out space in the very middle. There were no rusty pipes, no puddles, no holes in the ceiling. This place was taken care of.

The man was shoved into the middle of the clearing. He fell to the ground and rolled over onto his back, gasping and wheezing, blood bubbling out the corner of his mouth. He looked about forty or forty-five, black hair peppered with gray, lotsa wrinkles. Kinda fat. A pretty average guy. Or at least, I thought so.

"Nice to know you're as civil to your guests as ever, Aizen," the man choked out, mouth twisting in a smile.

I glanced to the side. I was just a little way off from Aizen, Ichimaru and Tousen, who were standing side by side. Ichimaru was grinning and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Tousen was blank as always. Aizen's face was emotionless, his hands were behind his back, and his eyes were cold.

"I find it surprising," he said conversationally, "that you'd still have such foolhardiness in you, Takehiko. After everything we've been through."

The man laughed. "What? I thought you liked 'em with a little bit of spunk."

"I'll admit, it would be less fun. But this is getting ridiculous."

Takehiko sat up, eyes wild. "The last thing you should worry about is me, you know."

"I know."

"The police'll find it very fucking suspicious that I've disappeared right after I've told them all about you. They'll know it was you."

"That's the least of my worries. You've betrayed my trust, Takehiko." There was real ice in his voice, now. "And you know how I hate that."

Takehiko snarled, his calm façade cracking. "I never betrayed any trust. You never trusted me, I never trusted you. You can't believe that I ever really followed you, you delusional fucker. Not like these assholes here."

He sneered in my direction, and I could feel my fists shake. I wished I had a knife with me that I could throw right into that fat, smug face of his.

"I'd entertained the thought," Aizen said, "but really. Trying to bring me down from within? Just for revenge because your son happened to die while working for me? It's so overdone. I'd thought you had more originality of thought, at least."

All of a sudden, the guy got to his knees, his eyes were mad with fury. "You let him die, asshole. _You let him die._ You as good as killed him!"

A shrug. "It was necessary. It's the risk you take in this line of work."

"He was a boy!" he screamed, red-faced and losing all control. "Just a boy! Seventeen fucking years old, and you fucking killed him! You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself!"

"I told him he didn't have to do it if he didn't want to. But he was so eager to prove himself. And anyway, I only thought it would be a meeting between the family heads. How was I supposed to know it would blow up like it did?" Aizen sounded politely tired, as if it was all this guy's fault that such drama was flaring up like it was.

"You should've known! The yakuza always fucking carry guns!" Takehiko howled, blood dribbling down his chin. "He trusted you, he looked up to you - and then…dead! _Dead!_ You asshole, how could I forget? How could I forgive? It was your fault he died! I'll never forgive you, never never never-"

Fuck, he'd completely snapped. He was writhing and frothing and screaming madly. His hands were tied and he was trying to get to his feet. I backed away until I hit the wall, just staring. I knew what was going to happen, I'd known from the moment we'd stopped outside that shitty house, but I didn't – I couldn't –

"I won't ask you to do the honors this time, Grimmjow," Aizen said quietly, "but I want you to watch, and to learn."

I thought I was gonna be sick.

"This is what happens to people in this world who do things they shouldn't do. This is how you're punished. This is what happens if a person ever - what's the word, now…ah yes…_squeals."_

Aizen reached inside his coat and pulled out a gun. It looked heavy. Something clicked, and he pointed the gun at the man crying on his knees in front of him.

My whole body went ice cold.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Takehiko," he said, with a smile on his face, "but really, you were asking for it."

Takehiko looked up at him, tears running down his face. He looked blank for a second, then grinned. And then there was a loud crack, his body jolted at the same time mine did, and I saw the blood start to pour from the hole in his throat. He fell backwards, onto a sheet of plastic I hadn't noticed before.

He twitched. He jerked. Frothing at the mouth with blood. It looked so messy.

But soon enough he lay still, so still, and I knew without a doubt he was dead.

I had to try about half a dozen times before I could swallow properly.

_Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths._

Obviously, Aizen had done this before. He'd prepared beforehand. I just about stopped myself from shaking, and clenched my fists so hard I thought the skin would break over my knuckles. I stared the bastard in the eye as he turned to face me. There would be no fucking weakness shown while I was still alive.

"Don't shoot the head," Aizen said. "Of course it all depends on the size of the bullets, but the blood can spatter quite an impressive distance, you know, depending on where you're standing in relation to them. And even if you shoot them in the chest there's not a hundred percent chance of death. The throat is good if you're accurate. Trachea, carotid artery, spinal cord. There's a good chance of hitting at least one." He sighed, looked mournfully at the gun. "I prefer less flashy methods of execution, but no one builds gas chambers anymore, do they? Knives and wires and poisons are all so chancy. At least you know where you are with a bullet."

I couldn't speak. I literally _could not say a word._

He saw. He understood. Aizen smiled as if we'd just gone out for some tea and cake, and went up to me and patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said. "You'll learn."

He was always, always smiling. Always gentle. Always warm. But I could see in his eyes some deep, dark twisted madness that really, really fucking freaked me out. I knew what he'd do to me if I didn't _learn._ The proof was right there in front of me, on his back, leaking a pool of blood, that horrible smile still on his face.

I had to get out of this. It didn't matter how. I couldn't do this. Maybe I would've been able to, in some alternate reality, if things hadn't been this way, if me and Kurosaki had never- no, now that he was with me I had to fucking protect that, didn't I? I had to protect what we had.

Deep breaths. Keep taking them. Keep breathing.

"I…I dunno if I can do…what you want me to do," I said, trying to sound like I regretted it, trying to sound like I cared. "Uh, maybe…you could…gimme more time, or – or you could-"

Aizen stopped me by raising a hand. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a photo, flipped it over so I could see.

"Do you know who this is?"

I swear for a moment my heart stopped beating. My hand reached out of its own accord, to touch it, hovering barely an inch away.

It was Kurosaki, looking away from the camera and smiling at something out of the frame. I could see red hair – Abarai, Abarai was with him – peeking out from a corner.

I didn't have to say anything. Aizen could work everything out by the look on my face. He chuckled.

"Oh, Grimmjow, while I'm glad that you've finally discovered your inner romantic, this can't get in the way of anything you do for me. You understand that, don't you?"

I couldn't move. I couldn't fucking _move._ My eyes were stuck to that photo.

There were more, though. These ones, it was just him and me, sometimes walking, sometimes hugging, kissing, whatever. In every one, you could see that Kurosaki was smiling. And that I was, too. It reminded me horribly of my dad being his crazy self and stalking us. It was why I didn't like getting my picture taken. You had no fucking idea who they'd up with, why they'd want them.

That thing the Aborigines or the Maori or whatever believes. That every time someone takes your picture they tear out a little bit of your soul.

Aizen was holding my soul in his hands.

He leaned forward a bit, expression twisting darker. "Now, hopefully, the fact that I know about your little…love affair, will act as both the carrot and the stick. Just a little motivation for you. A reminder for you to not, ah, _lose your way."_

I hated him. I hated him so much I would have taken the gun and shot him right there and then. But my line of thought went back to that first picture, and I saw his smiling face, and I felt that urge die.

Oh shit, Kurosaki, what the fuck have you done to me?

"Be careful, Grimmjow," said Aizen, no longer smiling. "There is nothing in his life or yours I don't know about. If you stray even just a little…well, now you know what I could do to this boy of yours."

Ichimaru giggled delightedly and mimed blowing somebody's head off. I saw nothing but red.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ touch him-"

I said it without even thinking, voice low and ragged. His expression changed.

"Or what?" he asked, his voice smooth and dark and menacing. "What will you do, Grimmjow?"

I clenched my jaw. "I…I…"

"You can do nothing. You_ are_ nothing, without me. You're worthless. Don't forget that." He moved closer. I still couldn't budge an inch. "And don't forget that I only have to say the word, and it would be the end of everything. _Everything."_

Aizen didn't need to point. He didn't need to elaborate.

If I ever put a toe out of line, he'd kill Kurosaki.

How the fuck could I argue with that?

He saw the resignation on my face. He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, and I barely restrained myself from tearing it off.

"That's a good boy," he said. "You might pretend to be stupid, but I can see through your play-acting. Don't disappoint me, now - you know what the consequences will be."

He held the first photo with both hands and ripped it slowly down the middle. Kurosaki's face was torn in two.

My breath hitched at the sight. Blood was roaring in my ears. I wanted to reach out and punch this fucker, gouge his eyes out, strangle him until his arms and legs were twitching and his face was purple and his eyes were bugging out – and I would have done it, I _would've,_ but he dropped the two pieces of the photo to the floor and I saw Kurosaki's torn, smiling face, and then I needed nothing more than the assurance that nothing would happen to him because of me. Because of stupid, idiotic me.

His life depended on me. It shocked me to the core, frightened me more than anything else Aizen could have done.

I was fucking helpless.

And I hated that. I _hated _that, more than anything else in the fucking world.

I was never helpless.

_Never. _

But he'd done it, this fucker with his stupid condescending smile and the menacing eyes and the gun in his hand. He'd reduced me to this - to fearing, not for my life, but for _someone else's._

That was the day I swore that, if ever I killed anyone in my life, it would be Aizen fucking Sousuke.


	27. ripples in ponds

_I know you've suffered  
But I don't want you to hide  
It's cold and loveless  
I won't let you be denied_

_Soothing  
I'll make you feel pure  
Trust me  
You can be sure_

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart  
I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask  
I want to exorcise the demons from your past  
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_

_You trick your lovers  
That you're wicked and divine  
You may be a sinner  
But your innocence is mine_

_Please me  
Show me how it's done  
Tease me  
You are the one_

_Please me  
Show me how it's done  
Trust me  
You are the one_

_**Undisclosed Desires ~ **_**Muse

* * *

**

I think, after a bed, lying on warm grass is the most comfortable thing in the world. It was a calm, sunny day; we were by the riverside, just kicking back and relaxing (or trying to) and there was no one else there but me and Grimmjow.

The sun was shining. The sky was blue. It was my favorite kind of day, and I was still in a terrible mood.

The reason for it was sitting beside me, staring at the river like water was a personal affront to him, ripping up the grass and crushing it between his fingers.

His dad had told me Grimmjow'd been in an awful mood for almost a week now. Smoking constantly, disappearing at weird times, hardly eating, hardly sleeping. He'd been more on edge than I'd ever seen him before, snapping and shouting at everyone who talked to him and generally being an asshole. Or, more of an asshole than he usually was. I didn't know what the problem was because he wouldn't tell me. Even though I was worried about him, his attitude still pissed me off more than I could describe. I thought we'd reached the point where he could actually, you know, tell me important things _without_ me having to beat it out of him.

But I let it go, for the moment. Every time I pried, he just tried to attack me. Verbally, physically, whatever; Grimmjow just was not in the mood to do any soulful sharing of his problems. So I gave him the silent treatment.

Yeah, I know I was acting like a pissy little girlfriend or something, but it was the only thing that got him to respond. Grimmjow hated being ignored, it was like an insult to his pride or dignity or some shit, and it worked wonders.

"Any reason you're acting like some frigid bitch, Kurosaki?" he asked me conversationally, pulling up handfuls of grass and throwing them on my face. I just lay there, eyes closed and not saying a thing.

"For fuck's sake, don't act like such a fucking pussy. This is just pissing me off more, seriously."

I turned over so my back was to him, the grass falling from my face and making me want to sneeze. I didn't even know why I was there anymore; he'd called me for the first time in days and asked to meet me by the river, at our usual spot. I, being the idiot I am, got ridiculously excited, hoping that he'd gotten over whatever weird mood had possessed him lately. Then I actually got here and I realized, no fucking luck.

"Kurosaki? Fuck's sake. Grow a pair, would ya? Kurosaki!"

He could be such an unbelievable prick sometimes. It was ridiculous. Sometimes I didn't know why I put up with it.

"Kurosaki, fucking _answer _me."

I didn't answer him. So he kicked me in the back. Hard.

"Fuck, _ow!"_

I didn't have to see Grimmjow to know he was smirking. "Pussy."

"You _stupid_ asshole!" I turned and kicked him back; the smirk disappeared as he glared at me dangerously. "What the hell is your fucking problem, Grimmjow?"

"You are. What the fuck is with this whole ignoring-me thing gonna achieve, huh?"

"I dunno, maybe I was just offended by the fact that you've been in a shitty mood for a whole fucking week and won't tell me why?"

"It's none of your goddamn business."

He'd said that to me before, but it still stung. It always would. "None of my business?"

"I don't need a fucking parrot, and yeah, _none of your_ _business._ We're not a fucking married couple, Kurosaki, we don't have a fucking joint bank account and a kid on the way. Unless you're just getting fat?"

Asshole. _Asshole!_

Grimmjow knew fine well he'd just overstepped that line between teasing and plain cruel, but it looked like he didn't give a shit. He took out a cigarette (so much for trying to give up, must've been the twentieth time or something) and took a drag, exhaling it angrily and not even looking at me.

Fuck it.

"OK, Grimmjow, it's your problem, not mine," I said, in the coldest voice I could manage while trying not to shake with anger. "Excuse me for actually fucking _caring."_

As I got up to leave his hand shot out, as fast as a cobra striking its prey, and clasped around my wrist. His grip was like steel and he pulled me onto the grass beside him, not letting go.

I gritted my teeth. "Dude, seriously. What the fuck is this."

Talk about mixed signals. I was running out of patience.

No, fuck that, I'd run out of patience a long fucking time ago. The only reason I was there still was because it was _Grimmjow,_ and for some reason I always gave him a second, third, fourth chance.

"Either tell me what the fuck is going on," I said, "or let me go."

Grimmjow was halfway through his cigarette. It was the fastest I'd ever seen him smoke. His pack was almost empty, too. He only did this when he was seriously stressed.

I waited, watching him for at least five minutes. He was working himself up, gearing up to this massively important confession; I wondered what the hell it was about.

Maybe he wanted to break up.

I froze up at the thought. Something hard and heavy slid into my belly, weighed me down, and my legs felt like lead.

"Kurosaki."

My heart was hammering. "What?"

He gritted his teeth together, took a deep breath. But as soon as he opened his mouth he was cut off.

"Ooh, looky here! Whaddya know, seems like someone's havin' a lil' picnic and I ain't even been invited."

Grimmjow should've won an award for how little time it took for the color to drain from his face. His hand squeezed my wrist so hard I thought the bone would break. I heard him swear under his breath and squeeze his eyes shut. I turned around; someone was blocking the sun.

They were standing above us, on the slope of the riverbank. It was a guy, tall and lanky, casting a shadow over us, grinning with an unnaturally wide mouth and staring fixedly at me with one mad eye. He was wearing an eyepatch. Just looking at him gave me the creeps.

"Fancy meetin' _you _here, Grimmjow," the guy said, smile almost cracking his face in two. "What a pretty lil' coincidence, eh?"

Grimmjow didn't answer, looking hard at the river running sluggishly past in front of us.

"Eh, now, why're ya ignoring me? That ain't nice." The stranger started padding down the hill, stopping until he was just a yard or two away. I saw that one eye catch sight of Grimmjow holding my arm, and the unnerving grin became wider still. "Aw, wait, I know what's wrong! Don't want me interupptin' yer special love-love time with yer girlfriend, huh?"

Fuck, how did he know-

"Why are you here, Nnoitra?" Grimmjow snarled, not even looking at the man.

'Nnoitra' laughed, and I fought the urge to shiver. "I dunno, honey-bun, just hadn't seen ya for a while, an' I was missin' ya! So Aizen suggested that maybe I could go, hmm, _visit _ya. Told me some…_interestin'_ things…" His eye flickered to me. "As in, yer new job."

Grimmjow sucked in a breath. I could see him tense up.

"And I got told 'bout the rewards." Nnoitra stopped, licking his lips, savoring the words. "And I heard 'bout the _punishments _too."

I swore I thought Grimmjow would stand right up and attack him there and then. But instead he just snapped, "Say what you have to say and get the fuck away, you freak."

Nnoitra's grin dropped away. He sneered. "Watch yer language. You don't insult yer superiors, dickwad."

"You aren't my superior."

"The fuck I ain't. And remember, sweetie, what ya got told. He says the word, and it's _over."_

He mimed a gun being fired, adding sound effects and everything. Grimmjow swallowed, but Nnoitra was looking straight at me. He smiled softly, and it was worse than his earlier leer. I didn't know what the hell was going on; it was like they were communicating in code, undercurrents of tension and bad feeling running between them, ready to wash me away.

"So, no more slacking off. Ya start in two weeks, and there won't be excuses," Nnoitra said. "His exact words. Ya got the message now, honey?"

"I got it," Grimmjow bit out.

Nnoitra was still looking at me. A long, slow, disturbing smile spread over his face. "Oi, orange-head."

Grimmjow was seriously going to snap my arm in two. I ignored the pain. "What."

He licked his lips again. "Has he fucked ya yet?"

"What kind of fucking question is that?" hissed Grimmjow, eyes narrowed to slits. I just turned red.

Nnoitra smirked. "Aw, maybe he's the bitch. Wouldn't be the first time. Or can't he get it up?"

Before I could say a word or do anything, Grimmjow'd risen to his feet and grabbed the front of Nnoitra's shirt, glaring daggers at the taller man. He pulled his fist back, ready to strike, but I caught it; Grimmjow's head whipped round, eyes staring as if he'd forgotten I was even there.

I didn't even say a thing. I just looked at him, not knowing how or what to communicate. But he let out a long, shaking breath and clenched his jaw. His arms dropped to his side, and he shoved his hands into his pockets and started to walk away. I joined him.

Nnoitra started laughing behind us. The harsh, unpleasant sound rang in my ears all the way to Grimmjow's house. I was uneasy, but not as furious as I'd been before. Not at Grimmjow, anyway.

"Who was that?" I asked finally, as we walked through the front door.

"Nnoitra Jiruga," he answered shortly, pulling his shoes off, every movement tense and jerky.

The name was irritatingly familiar. "I've heard of him-"

"Of fucking course you have, he was the one that pulled me into the hole of shit I'm in now."

"He-"

"He's the one who got me into the whole fucking drug scene," Grimmjow spat. "He introduced me to Aizen. He's one of the goddamn fucking bastards who_ ruined_ my life." He threw his shoes to the floor.

_Tall gangly asshole, ugly as shit and with an attitude to match._

Ah. Now I remembered.

Because there was nothing to say we didn't speak a word, climbing the stairs and heading to his room automatically and in absolute straining silence. When we got to his room he slammed the door behind him so hard I felt the walls shudder and that was it, that was absolutely it. I just wanted to know what was _wrong, _for fuck's sake!

"Grimmjow-"

"Don't talk to me right now, Kurosaki," he growled, starting to pace, hands running through his hair restlessly. "Just don't."

"Then let me out the fucking house," I said, crossing my arms. "If you don't want me here, that's fine. I'll just fucking leave."

"No." He grabbed my shoulders, glaring daggers at me. "No, you're not gonna."

"Says who, asshole? _You?_ As fucking if. If you don't want me talking to you or sticking my nose in your fucking business, that's cool. What's the point of me being around, huh? What's the point of us being together if you're not gonna tell me anything? We might as well just break up!"

Grimmjow froze completely, breathing shallow, eyes wide. A hand came up and gripped my chin, so hard I knew it would bruise.

"Don't fucking say that. Don't you dare. Don't you _dare!" _He had the scariest expression on his face. I didn't back down, though.

"Then tell me what's wrong!"

"I can't!" he snarled, fingers digging painfully into my flesh. His thin lips were stretched back to bare sharp, sharp teeth. "I just _can't,_ all right? I just – it's too…if I did, then…" His face contorted. "Trust me on this. You're better off not knowing. It's – it's better. For everyone. All right?"

He tried really hard to hide it but I knew him inside out by now, and I could see that there was fear in his eyes. Fear and desperation. It scared me because Grimmjow was _never _scared. Nothing frightened him. What could be so bad that he was getting like this?

"What is it?" I tried to be as nice as I could. "Look, you can tell me. Is it…your boss?"

I didn't say his name. Grimmjow didn't like me saying Aizen's name.

"I'm not telling you, Kurosaki," he said. "Just leave it. P…" His face twitched again. "Please."

When he said that, I couldn't help doing as he asked. I touched his face, concerned, and the cold hard look in his eyes faded slowly. His hand came up to cover mine on his cheek. His eyes closed, sighed deeply, frowning. I moved to kiss him and then he was all over me, hands in my hair, running down my back, kissing me so hard I was breathless in seconds.

There were still questions to ask, answers to demand, but I knew it wasn't the right time. That was one of the things I'd figured out about Grimmjow – he never, ever volunteered info about his life when you asked about it, until he was good and ready to give it. If he didn't want me to know something, then I wouldn't know about it until he told me. Like that thing about his mother. About trying to kill himself. He hadn't told another living soul except me, and that was almost two years after it'd happened. Two years after I'd saved his life, after we'd started to be friends.

If he couldn't tell me and it was tearing him up this much, it had to be something bad. Maybe he _couldn't_ tell me, for whatever reason. I didn't know. But what I did know was that he'd been patient with me. About me adjusting. Telling my friends. Getting used to doing sexual stuff with him. It was only fair that I did it in return, that I trusted him.

I felt his hands on my bare skin and felt like I was on fire. He needed this. I needed it. It felt like he hadn't touched me in a lifetime.

Grimmjow pushed me onto the bed, straddling my hips, pressing sloppy kisses across my jaw-line and down my neck, sucking on the collarbone, popping open the buttons on my shirt and pulling it off. A hot, wet tongue slid over a hard nipple, and sharp tingles started shooting down my spine, heading straight for my dick.

My whole body arched into him, and I hissed, squeezing my eyes shut. Grimmjow started kissing my stomach, tongue running along a hipbone, and the tingles intensified. But underneath all the pleasure there was still a stab of fear. What did I _do?_

"Grimmjow-"

"Mmph…"

"Grimmjow." I grabbed a hold of his hair and pulled him away from me. It only encouraged him. Seemed like he kind of liked the pain. "Stop."

His blue eyes were hazy with lust, but it started clearing. He was getting pissed again. _"What?"_

"Stop. I…this is…"

"This is damn good and you know it."

I licked my lips, nervous. "Yeah. Yeah, it is-"

"So what's the fucking problem?"

"What…how can I…" The words were stuck. "I-"

"You think too much," Grimmjow said, spreading his big hands on my stomach, staring at me intently. He knew what was wrong, he knew without even having to work it out. "Stop fucking thinking. Sex isn't about logic or common sense or any shit like that. The only thing that's stopping you is the logistics of how we fucking do this, ain't that right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Stop thinking," he ordered. "Just stop. Don't think. _Feel."_

His voice came out as a low, husky purr. My breath hitched, my stomach leaped. I couldn't help it. He was so goddamn sexy with his hair mussed up like that, eyes blazing, bare-chested and sweat beading on his skin.

"Feel?" I asked. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I didn't want to.

"That's right," he murmured. "Feel. You're not scared of this, I know you're not. You're just scared of doing something wrong, and that's the most retarded thing I've ever heard. You can't do sex _wrong."_

"If anyone can, I can."

"Bullshit." He grabbed one of my hands and pushed against the crotch of his pants. Dark blue eyes watched through half-shut eyelids as I let out a tiny moan. Fuck, he was so hard.

"See?" he said thickly. "You ain't doing nothing wrong."

Somehow, after that, words didn't seem necessary.

* * *

_**No matter how much cats fight, there always seem to be plenty of kittens.**_** ~ Abraham Lincoln**

* * *

Most of the time when we were alone like that, I couldn't help myself. Kurosaki's body was far too tempting, warm and solid and deliciously muscled, responding to the lightest touch. When we kissed, I wanted to take him into me, every part of him; my hands would just move over him of their own accord and touch and stroke and press until he would stiffen and I'd stop then, knowing I'd reached the limit.

It was seriously fucking hard. I wanted him so much. And the shit with Aizen just fueled it. The tension, the anxiety – there was only one effective way for me to work it off.

It was right after Nnoitra's surprise visit that we almost got there. That crazy fucker showing up had suddenly hammered it into me: I didn't have _time._ My days were pretty much fucking numbered. And that put everything in a new light. My bed had never looked so comfortable, food had never tasted so good, certain people had never seemed so important to me. Kurosaki had never looked so tempting.

I wanted him more than ever; it was eating away at me, so fast and hard and hungry I pushed him more than I knew I should. But he never complained. I think he was as frustrated with things as I was, just as lust-crazed and demanding.

He always came over to my place for this sort of thing, and I understood why. His crazy father and nosy sisters would never have left us alone. _Here, _though…

My bed was two small for both of us, but it forced creativity, at least. At that moment in time Kurosaki was lying under me, half-naked, fingers tangled in my hair, legs curled around mine. I was kissing him so deeply it was like drowning, but in the best way possible. My hands ran down his sides, tickled his ribs gently; he whimpered and drew me closer, legs spread wide until I could feel his hard cock press against my own, digging into my hip.

Now, when my fingers clumsily pulled down his boxer shorts, he didn't protest. When I stroked a finger slowly down the length of his erection his neck arched back against the pillow and he moaned, biting his lip. I could feel his legs tighten around me. I curled my hand around the base of his cock, felt the pulse beating through him, the soft skin over the hard flesh. I let my fingertips brush a path down until they touched thin, sensitive skin; his breathing was ragged and gasping, hands clawing at my back and his thighs squeezing my waist. He had amazingly gorgeous legs, long and tanned and perfected from years of soccer.

"Fuck…" he rasped. "Fuck, Grimmjow-"

I wasn't in any better state than he was. My teeth bit down on his earlobe, my tongued trailed down his neck until I reached his shoulder. There was a dark purplish mark there already, something I'd left for him a few days ago, and I kissed it. He whined and pulled on my hair, and it sent tingles shooting straight through my body to my cock.

I was finding it hard to swallow. My throat was so _dry._ "Kurosaki, do ya…do ya wan' me ta stop?"

"No…nonono, keep going, keep going…"

"Like this?" I breathed, my thumb inching up his erection slowly, from the base to the head.

Kurosaki shuddered, twitching. "Mmph, ugh, yeah, yeah, like that."

Precome was already beading at the slit and I slid my whole hand up his hard cock, letting the silky skin move smoothly under my fingers. My thumb glided over the tip, spreading the sticky liquid in small, slow circles. He was so hard, so wet, wound so tight that it didn't take long for me to bring him over the edge. Just a few long, hard, slow strokes and his breath hitched. He gave a choked sort of gasp, his whole body arching into me.

"Ah…ah, god, Grimmjow…"

When he came, his whole body became rigid. I felt him come around my hand, semen spurting from the head of his cock onto his stomach, coating my fingers. Kurosaki went limp, head falling back against the bed, chest heaving. He swallowed thickly.

My head rested against his shoulder. The golden skin was slick with sweat, and I licked a stripe from his collarbone down to one pert nipple, loving his moans and the way his body tightened against me.

"G-Grimmjow…"

"Mmm?"

"Made a mess," he whispered, looking down at me with dark, drugged-looking eyes. Typical Kurosaki. Always so obsessed with being hygienic.

"Yeah," I rumbled, splaying my fingers against his abs, spreading the sticky fluid. "Seems like you did."

"Feel…feel dirty."

"Mm, you_ are_ dirty." I dragged my tongue up his neck, biting down on his earlobe.

"Clean?"

My breath gusted over his chest, and I saw him shiver. I smirked. "Don't worry, Kurosaki, I'll clean you up."

I slipped a come-coated finger into my mouth, making sure he was watching every second. Two fingers. Three.

Brown eyes fluttered closed. He groaned loudly as I started licking down his chest, pressing my wet tongue against his hard nipples, scraping teeth against the sensitive bud. He whined again and grazed blunt-nailed fingers down my spine, body spasming when I started licking up the come on his stomach, every long, wet, languorous stroke making him shudder.

Without any warning Kurosaki grabbed the back of my head and pulled me up and kissed me, tongue plunging into my mouth, teeth nipping hard at my lips. He moved his mouth to my ear, kissed the sensitive skin behind it, before taking my dirty hand and sucking the fingers into his hot, wet mouth.

I swear to god I almost came there and then, but he had other ideas. He let my hand slip out of his mouth and kept kissing me, pushing me onto my back, hands roving over my chest and stomach, lower, lower, lower-

"Kurosaki, shit-"

He copied what I'd done; long, smooth movements up and down, fingers tentatively brushing against the base and sliding hard over the head. I was almost there, I could feel the precome leaking from the tip, and those innocent fingers skimmed over it and spread it down, I couldn't think, I felt like I was on fire-

"I'll get you dirty too," he murmured in my ear, and that was what broke me.

It was almost explosive. I came so hard I thought I'd pass out. He inhaled sharply when he felt it, the come slipping through his fingers, splattering against my stomach and chest. Kurosaki didn't waste any time in licking me clean, that wet pink tongue laving all over my skin without pausing like he was used to this, like he'd done it before dozens of times.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck, I_ loved_ him-

He kissed me deeply, sticky hands clinging to my hair, nibbling on my lips, his wet stomach flush against mine. He kissed me so long and so hard I was sure I'd die.

There was no better way to go.

We trailed off slowly, pulling apart and panting. Kurosaki's eyes were drooping shut. He lay his head next to mine, a lazy smile spreading over his face. For almost five minutes we didn't talk and I was just about ready to fall into a doze when Kurosaki whispered to me.

"Grimmjow."

"Mmm."

"I feel gross."

"The better it is, the grosser you feel afterwards."

"Is that right?" he laughed.

"Yeah, it is." I bit down on his earlobe again and he shuddered a little, moaning. I licked his neck and said, "But you ain't even seen half of what I can do yet."

"Is that right?" he said again, a little more breathy this time.

"Oh yeah." I smirked. "Things are gonna get downright fucking _disgusting _once we're through."

"I like the sound of that. Disgusting?"

"Repulsive. Sickening. _Nauseating."_

"Sounds good."

"It'll feel even better."

He grinned. "You should have a shower installed right next to your bed."

"I'll get right on it. But meanwhile…" My hand snaked down to his groin. "Hey, feels like you're ready for another round. That's pretty fast."

"Of course it is, I'm a horny teenage boy with years of sexual frustration to get rid of. You don't mind, right?" Kurosaki's eyes were shining with amusement, and it was slowly deepening into blackened lust as my hands moved against him.

"Sure, as long as you pay me back."

"That's not even a problem," he said, kissing me, hands moving everywhere, his mouth licking and sucking and biting and getting my body as tight as a wire until I was twitching and shuddering like he was the experienced one and I was the innocent novice.

I'll say this for Kurosaki: he learns very, very fucking fast.

And, we almost got there.

_Almost._

I was there, my arms braced on either side of his head. The condom was on. He was ready. So was I, so damn ready I was shaking with it.

Picture it – me kneeling between his spread legs, one of them hanging off the edge of the bed. His arms above his head, the fingers gripping his pillow tightly; he was biting his lip, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes. The only light was coming in dimly from the window, the curtains wafting a little in a cool breeze. The covers had been thrown off and they lay in a mess on the floor. I moved my head down and pressed my forehead against his, kissed his cheek, his nose, his mouth.

Kurosaki's chest was heaving. He licked his lips, muttered something under his breath and arched his hips when he felt the hard tip of my cock rub between his legs, right against his sensitive entrance.

"You wanna?"

My voice was still unsteady. Unsure. He frowned and paused for a moment, opened his mouth-

A sudden loud knock on the door stopped whatever he was going to say.

"Boys? Boys, are you in there? I'm bored."

It was dad.

Shattering the silence, ruining the moment.

For a second, neither me or Kurosaki could believe it. We froze.

"Grimmjow!" dad whined. "Are you there? Come see my new painting."

His new painting.

_His new painting._

I was so fucking furious, _oh my god._

So was Kurosaki.

"GET _LOST!"_ we both roared at exactly the same time. He picked up the pillow and hurled it at the door, eyes blazing. I groaned loudly in frustration and dropped my head onto his shoulder, cursing and swearing as loudly as possible. I could hardly restrain myself from tearing my hair out.

"So rude!" dad squealed.

"We were busy!" I yelled.

"Oh lord, were you two at it _again?"_

Kurosaki made some sort of strangled noise and went beet-red while I just threw something else at the door and shouted, "Go! Fuck off, get lost, just _go away!"_

After a few thousand years of grumbling and shuffling he finally fucked off and me and Kurosaki were left on our own again. Kurosaki's hands were covering his face. I pulled them away, and he said, "It's really fucking freaky how your dad can do that. It's like _he knows."_

"Fuck off, considering what kinda family you have you can't say a thing." I grinned. "Anyway, he probably did hear you. You ain't that quiet in bed."

"Shut up. We..." Kurosaki stopped and sighed. "Fuck. That…"

"You wanna try again?"

His mouth twisted a little as he looked down. "Nah. Don't think it'll work. But, uh-"

"Some other time."

"Yeah. With some actual privacy."

"We just can't catch a fucking break," I muttered, and he smiled at me. I couldn't help smile back. He pulled me down, kissed me, curled up against my side and closed his eyes.

I just watched him for a while. Saw how the half-light whispered over his body, turning his hair silver and gray. I could see his pulse beating at his throat, and I put my finger on it. Kurosaki's skin was warm. He sighed, and the hard knot inside my chest that had been weighing me down for the last week loosened. I moved my head down and kissed his nose. The corners of his mouth turned up.

It was weird, how I could be in a totally shit mood for a week but a couple hours in bed with him just made it melt away like nothing ever happened. Like I never saw Aizen murder someone in front of my eyes. Like I wasn't supposed to start doing the same thing in just a few days.

The thought made me sick. It meant I hadn't been able to sleep at night. The dreams kept waking me that instead of Aizen pulling the trigger, it was instead of that other guy being killed, it was Kurosaki. His brains spattered all over the ground. His mouth twisted into that horrible smile. His blood on my hands.

Every night I'd wake up sweating, not having slept for more than a few hours. I felt like a dead man walking. Constantly exhausted, always hungry but never wanting to eat, twitchy, anxious, terrified. I was a mess. I hadn't shaved in days. My hair was greasy and lank. I smelled like a goat. It was disgusting.

And yet Kurosaki was there anyway, cuddling up to me. He'd buried his head into the crook of my shoulder and was already asleep. I could feel the drool. I felt my heart twist just a little more.

I wondered how long it would last: this intimacy, this relationship, this life. If it would last at all.

Maybe Aizen wouldn't keep to his word. He probably wouldn't. He'd do what he wanted, and he wouldn't get punished for it. He had literally gotten away with murder before.

What the fuck could I do?

It was either kill or be killed.

Already the cold sweat was breaking out across my body but I didn't allow myself to think about it too deeply. Never for more than a few seconds, skittering away from the situation like a frightened animal. That night I just lay there and listened to Kurosaki breathe, memorizing every last detail, running my hands through his hair and over his skin, pulling him as close as possible to me. His arms were tight around my neck and they felt like an anchor holding me down in a stormy sea.

I think, that was why I didn't go completely fucking insane. Maybe those nights with Kurosaki saved me. Afterwards I'd feel his warmth surround me, filling me up, and I'd tick off every night on my mental calendar, figuring out how much time we had, counting down the days. Minutes, hours, days; it all went through my fingers like sand. Time was running out.

It depressed me more than I can say, but I knew all good things had to come to an end. And this - this was no exception.


	28. kill the clock

**kill the clock** _sports_

to use up as much game time as possible when one is winning, as to protect a lead in basketball, ice hockey, or football

* * *

The next day, Kurosaki was gone when I woke up. Not really surprising considering it was mid-afternoon on a school day, but after those first few sleepy seconds when I realized no one else was in bed with me, I couldn't help but be in a bad mood. He hadn't even left me a note or anything.

Well, not that I was expecting one.

I stared at the pillow next to mine. There was still a dip in it where Kurosaki's head had lain. One of my hands touched it lightly, and I thought I could smell peaches. But it was just my imagination.

After wallowing for a while in my empty, lonely bed I cursed and groaned and managed to stumble to the bathroom to wash, then went down and had lunch, tripping down the stairs and hitting my head against the kitchen doorway as usual. I finished a week's supply of candy bars while I sprawled out on the sofa and watched shitty daytime TV for a bit: I wanted to be as lazy and as normal as I could possibly be while I still had the chance, because in just two weeks (as Nnoitra had so kindly fucking told me) I was gonna start killing people for a living.

At the thought I sank deeper into the sofa, scowling darkly. This whole Aizen thing. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do about it?

Every time I contemplated an answer my stomach would try to turn itself inside out. I mean, I know the situation sounds kinda cool when I put it like that – I got to kill people for a living.

OK if you're kinda fucked in the head, then it's cool. Being an assassin or a ninja or something sounds badass, right? You dress in leather, you get to use cool guns, outta the whole cast you get the best one-liners and you get to smoke and look awesome while doing it.

Or something. I dunno. What the fuck I'm trying to say is, people think that being something like that is awesome.

But it's not. There's blood, tears, everything. It's a mess; physically, emotionally, psychologically. Cleaning everything up afterwards and trying to make it look like an accident. You have to do a metric fuck-ton of planning.

Lemme tell you, not everything went as smoothly as Takehiko did.

Aizen had taken me out on some other friendly little trips. One or two, at the most, in the last week or so. I tried to blank them out from my mind, but in my dreams I couldn't escape and the blood was hot and sticky on my skin. Their screams, their begging, their pleading echoed again and again. The look on their faces when they saw the gun, when they knew for sure what would happen to them.

Sometimes they'd turn to me, the nineteen year old kid, like I could save them. Like I'd stand in front of them and reason with him. Bargain to save their limbs, their life, the lives of their children or their family.

I never did. I never looked at their eyes. If you did that, you were a goner for sure. So whenever they looked my way, I made sure to avoid their gaze and do nothing.

I let them die.

They weren't always _killed,_ Aizen told me. Sometimes he just taught them a 'lesson'. Nudged them back onto the path, because they had been straying, and he always took care of his flock. Most of the time, though, he didn't do it himself; he let someone else take care of it. These last few occasions had been_ special_ though, and he'd wanted to show me everything himself.

Maybe a few years ago I woulda been slightly flattered that he went to such measures to intimidate me. It showed I had some power over him. I would've gloated about it, showed off in front of the others because of it, rubbed it in their faces that he liked me better and that I was special.

But now, all I wanted was to sit and watch TV without worrying about becoming a murderer.

The volume was really loud. I was sinking into the sofa uncomfortably. Something bright and garish was on the screen and when I closed my eyes it left echoes of pink and yellow dancing across my retinas. Inside my chest a black ball of rage, frustration, terror was growing and growing. With each day it got heavier. I didn't know who to talk to, who to trust. What to do.

TV didn't help. Candy didn't help. And Kurosaki – being around him kinda made it worse, because I knew exactly what he'd look like, lying on the floor with his brains painting the wall, if I didn't do what Aizen wanted.

When Kurosaki smiled at me my heart ached. I knew he'd rather die himself than see people killed on his behalf.

Over and over again, like a hamster in a wheel. Driving myself down a spiral of depressing thoughts. What-ifs, maybes, death and destruction, with no way out of it. I was trapped.

Just as my thoughts were getting really fucking miserable the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, my head fuzzy, annoyed that dad could never fucking collect his own fucking packages in the mail.

But it wasn't for him.

It was lying on the doorstep and it had my name on it. A square package, wrapped neatly in brown paper. It seemed inconspicuous and innocent.

But I wasn't stupid. A suspicious package left at your house could be any number of things. I was just about to throw it away, when I saw there was a note taped to the front, and I pulled it off and read it.

_Dearest Grimmjow,_

_I know that your birthday's a while away yet, but I thought that you might need this._

_In the future it will come in useful._

There was no signature. But I knew who it was from. That_ perfect_ handwriting, I could never mistake it.

I held the note in a hand that wasn't quite shaking. I stared so hard at it the words started to blur and squiggle across the page. Dropping it to the floor, I picked the package up, slammed the door shut behind me and tore apart the wrapping paper inside the house.

It was a plain white box. I ripped it open.

There was a gun inside.

It'd been covered in bubble-wrap at least three times over. I'd handled a gun before, just a few times, so I wasn't intimately acquainted with their workings or any shit like that, but I knew the shape. The weight of it. The feel of it in my hands.

Which were now really shaking.

I didn't want to drop it. It was probably loaded. So I shoved it back into the box, just about on the edge of a panic attack. I went to the bathroom and threw up, again and again until I was shaking from it. All the candy. Some beer from before. Bile. I hadn't eaten much lately. I curled up on the floor and pressed my forehead against the cool tile, trying to control my breathing.

What the fuck did I do? What the fuck was I gonna do? What _could _I do?

Fucking Aizen.

_Asshole._

I knew what this meant. It was a promotion, for lack of a better word.

For a while when I was young I'd wanted this. I was willing to claw my way to the top, any means necessary. I did shitty things. I ruined people, I brought them down, I'd beaten them and shot them bad enough to scare, to wound - but I'd never, _ever_ killed them. I always stopped myself. I controlled myself from doing that.

Not because I'd never had the urge. Not because I hadn't wanted to. But it was taking that last, final step, into territory you couldn't back out from.

You'd never be able to escape if you took that step. If you pointed the gun and pulled the trigger and ended someone's life.

Aizen would've always had a hold on me.

That's why it never fucking happened.

I'd have really been under his thumb then. He would've controlled me completely.

If I put one toe out of line – _bang,_ I was gone. Police. Prison. Not dead – there were things worse than death in this world, and I knew about a ton of them.

Aizen had given me a gun to use on some trips. I hardly used a bullet, most of the time (some people were just fucking _asking_ for more, though) and when I reported back to him he always took it away from me.

Not to keep me from temptation; he just didn't trust me yet.

And now, this gift. It was a sign.

I was, like he said, _progressing._

No turning back now, Grimmjow.

See what you've fucking done now.

Idiot. Moron. Retard.

What the fuck did I do now?

I'd put the box in the kitchen. After I washed my mouth out and dragged myself back in there I stood in the middle of the floor, speechless and frozen with shock for about half an hour. I started cursing and swearing like I've never done before. I saw some plates, freshly washed, lying next to the sink. My fingers twitched and my hands balled into fists.

Every plate, every glass, every bowl in that room was destroyed. Shattered. I crushed them under my feet, hurled them against the walls, smashed them against the counters. Pots and pans flew out the window. I pulled the wooden doors off cupboards, kicked them until they splintered.

Cups. Mugs. Containers full of flour or sugar or spices. Everything you could imagine being in a kitchen, I took it with my two bare hands and reduced it to dust. To add to that I almost broke all my knuckles punching the wall, over and over again.

After all of it was done I was standing in the middle of the kitchen smoking a cigarette, my hands covered in blood, breathing heavily. I was staring at a wall with wide eyes. I just stared and stared. I don't know how long for.

My dad walked in.

He was instantly speechless. He gaped at me, mouth falling open, looking around at the shards of glass and china and wood covering the floor.

"Grimmjow?"

Idiot. You're an _idiot,_ Grimmjow. Absolute first class fucking _retard._

"Dad, I'm in trouble."

He said nothing about the kitchen. Just by looking at me, he knew something was really wrong. He took me gently and cleaned the blood off my hands, bandaged them, wiped dust off my face and my clothes. He made me sit down on the sofa, held my hands, told me to explain everything.

So I did. Everything. _Everything._ In about half an hour I condensed nine years. Right from the beginning: the drugs and the sex and the crime, Aizen and all the shit I'd done for him because I was a stupid fucked-up kid. The truth behind the overdose, why I'd done it in the first place. Kurosaki. And-

"Two weeks, he said. I have to start in two weeks. Or he'll...kill…"

There was a scratchy, raw feeling in my mouth. I couldn't get the words out.

"I understand," dad said. "I knew, after all. I've always known."

My first big surprise. All I could do was sit there numbly and stare at him.

"Both your mother and I knew. We tried to protect you as best as we could."

Second big surprise. How the fuck could mom do _anything?_ She was in fucking _Germany._

I found my voice, and when I spoke everything came out harsh like the croak of a dying bird. "By doing what, exactly? And the fuck could you have known?"

"Grimmjow, you were about thirteen years old. You were hardly the most discreet person, and it was obvious. Both your mother and I – we heard things from various people. We put the clues together. What we got, well…"

My dad shrugged and sighed, and in that moment he looked older and more tired than he had ever done before. And I was a little scared because I actually felt worried for him.

What the fuck.

"You still haven't answered my questions," I said, pushing the concern away. Right now, it wasn't about him. It was about _me._

"And you're too impatient for your own good. You always were. You need to give me time to explain, Grimmjow, I can't tell you everything into thirty seconds!"

"You can damn well try! Time ain't going any slower!"

"Fine, as you wish," dad said, irritable. "Right, I'll start...at the divorce. It was hard for you, I know that, but it was hard for me and your mother too – no, don't roll your eyes like that! You always seem to forget other people's feelings, you selfish child. You hardly ever think about what other people are going through. Everything is about _you!"_

He took a deep breath. My lips were pressed together so hard it almost hurt and I wrenched my hands away from his, ignoring the pain that flared up. I wanted another cigarette, but I'd finished my supply.

"Right. The divorce. It was difficult, for all of us. Especially for you, I realize that, and when…when you stopped going to school and doing the drugs I….I…." He swallowed, ducked his head. "I did some very stupid things then, too."

"Like what?"

"Remember…remember in my study, there was a safe where I kept money?"

I snorted. Of course I fucking did, I'd cracked the combination on the first try. "Yup, I remember it."

"You used to steal money from it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, so?" I scowled at him blackly, hating that I felt guilt prickling at the back of my neck.

"I…I..."

"Spit it out already."

"I made it easy for you to open," he said miserably, "so you could get the money without trouble."

A beat.

"What?" I said, not believing what I'd just heard.

"I kept money for you in the safe. So that you could buy your drugs."

It was good that I was already sitting down, otherwise I might've fallen to the floor. My body felt shaky. My mouth was hanging open.

"_What?"_

And oh, god. Shit. I looked at my dad's face, and I saw that he was crying – tears were seeping out of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, dripping to the floor. He looked broken. I was freaking out. My fucking dad was fucking _crying._

"I didn't know what else to do," he whispered.

"Dad, why are you crying? Stop that!"

"I thought maybe, if you had the money, you wouldn't do anything illegal. Maybe you would grow out of it, it would just be a phase, you would turn back to the way you were. A good boy." He turned to me desperately. "You were a good boy before then, Grimmjow."

"No," I said. "No, I really wasn't."

"You-"

"Dad, you have no fucking idea about the sort of stuff I did when I was a kid."

I thought about Kurosaki, those three years, teardrops clinging to those long eyelashes of his. That night, listening to his heartbeat in the night. Kissing him. Telling him I loved him, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear me.

"I was never a good person," I said. "I'm still not. But I…." It was hard to talk. I felt clogged up. "I'm working on it."

"It's because of him, isn't it?" he said, grabbing one of my hands and squeezing it hard. "Ichigo-san. Oh my goodness, Grimmjow, you can't imagine how I relieved I was when he found you. I thought it was my fault. I thought if I hadn't let you have that money, if I'd just talked to you, it might not have happened. I was never there for you, I was such a terrible father. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry-"

"Oh my god dad, don't cry again!"

"Sorry," he hiccupped, wiping his eyes. "I just…"

I coughed into my fist, not wanting him to speak anymore because his voice was all watery and croaky and I didn't like how much it was affecting me.

"Look, uh, it wasn't your fault. You didn't actually, you know, shove the stuff in my hands and tell me to take it. That was my own choice, yeah? I was an idiot. So. Er. Don't beat yourself up about it."I patted his back a little, because that was what you were supposed to do to people who were crying.

Or at least I thought it was. The only person I saw on a regular basis was Kurosaki and he didn't exactly burst into tears every time we met up, thank the lord, so really I was just winging it. But dad managed to get himself under control and blew his nose loudly, mopping at his eyes with a corner of his handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, son. I just…"

"You're an emotional and sensitive person. Yeah, you've said."

"I always wonder what happened to that gene. It hasn't been passed down to you, that's for sure."

"Can we get back to the subject at hand, please?"

"Ah, yes." He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed deeply. When he looked at me again he was calm and serious. "Right. After the divorce, you went off the rails. Your mother – after you told her about…about your preferences, she almost disowned you. She wanted to. But I persuaded her not to, I told her that you'd still need her. And she listened, for once."

A tiny, slightly bitter laugh. "I think she wanted to do me at least a small favor, considering what she'd been doing behind my back with the Josef all those years. But anyway, we learned about what you were doing, and we thought, no, that's not good. We considered our options, knowing you wouldn't listen to either of us if we tried to advise you or talk to you. And I started asking around, very discreetly mind you, about what I could do about the situation. I wanted you to be safe. So, I bought you protection."

He blinked at me, smiling a little now. I tried to form words. I gave up and nodded, signaling for him to go on.

"They were somewhat like mercenaries, I think? Maybe ex-military. I was never quite sure. But I hired them to take care of you, watch over you. Make sure you didn't get into any real trouble. Sort of like your guardian angels."

Guardian angels? "Wait, what the fuck? Who are we talking about now?"

"You won't know their names or who they are. But we hired a team to look after you and make sure you didn't get into any trouble. Bodyguards, I suppose."

"_Bodyguards?"_

"That's right."

"Body- what the fuck. No way. You gotta be shitting me."

"No swearing. And no, this is not a joke. Didn't you ever wonder why you lasted so long? Why you never got into as much trouble as others who worked for Aizen might have?"

"He said he liked me."

"That's a barefaced lie and you know it."

I looked at my dad and tried to gauge his mood. He was deadly serious, not his usual retarded self; he knew this was a fucked-up situation. He wasn't gonna be whining about how his latest soufflé hadn't risen properly or the terrible scores for Marseille's soccer team this season. People's lives were in danger, people we knew and cared about, and thinking this through meant that we needed every brain cell we had.

"I don't know how they did it exactly, but these men, they made sure you were never in Aizen's mind for too long. They distracted him, I expect. Put themselves in danger. That sort of thing. I'm not sure."

"Gee dad, you sound like you're really in the loop."

He frowned at me. "Shut up. I trust them. I've trusted them for years – I have reason to. They have not messed up once, it seems."

"But these _bodyguards,"_ I said, sneering, "where are they right now, eh? And where they fuck were they when I saw that guy getting his head blown off? Or the times after that? Huh?"

"They didn't know. They weren't prepared. Aizen told nobody about that, not even his closest and most loyal confidantes."

"Whatfuckingever. I don't care. Just tell me these invisible assholes might have some idea how to get us out this fucking mess and I might actually listen."

"There will be no swearing in this house," dad said in a hard voice. But he paused, frowning. "That last part, though. That's…not a bad idea."

"So call them up and haul their asses over here!"

"It's more complicated than that," he said. "You're probably being watched. Followed. We have to be careful."

I knew we had to be careful. After all, Aizen had only managed to get photos of me and Kurosaki together because I'd gotten complacent. I forgot who I was, who I worked for; I forgot that my life was anything but a happy dream.

It wouldn't happen again, though. I'd learned my lesson.

"I know, dad. But we don't have any other choice. There's no time, we have to _do_ something!"

He nodded, slowly. I was right after all. We had less than two weeks to work something out; what that something would be, I had no fucking clue. I was grabbing at straws. These bodyguard guys, at least they were an _idea._

My dad sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. I'll call them. Wait here."

He went into another room while I waited, picking at the bandages on my hands and resisting the urge to pace back and forth. I'd done that too often recently. My legs were feeling twitchy; I was restless, impatient.

After about five minutes dad came back in, said that one of them would be here in a while. I nodded. I couldn't say anything. My leg started shaking up and down. My hands were trembling. I was tired as fuck but every time I lay down to relax I couldn't close my eyes. I ended up just looking at the ceiling for about half an hour, my nerves stretching tauter and tauter with every passing second.

The doorbell rang. I almost fell off the sofa. Dad answered it. I heard the low murmur of voices at the front door and seconds later they walked in; short stumpy dad with his thinning hair and nervous expression, and this other dude.

He was tall and thin with long black hair in a braid. Dark eyes, pale skin, sharp features. I stood up to greet him, and I found he was taller than me by a good few inches. Which was totally fucking weird, because I was one of the tallest people I knew.

"Grimmjow-sama." He bowed deeply before me. His voice was polite, deferential almost.

Instantly I was lost for words. Grimmjow-_sama?_ What the fuck? People usually only said that to royalty and shit. Not to some loser like me.

"Don't call me that. Grimmjow is fine."

"Grimmjow-san, then."

"Well-"

"My name is Shawlong. Shawlong Qufang. You won't know who I am." He smiled at me.

I stood back and said nothing, just looking. He reminded me of Kurosaki's friend, the tall Mexican one – Sado something. They were similar, these two. Already I was getting a feeling for his personality; it was obvious from the way he dressed, the way he stood and spoke and gestured. He was well-spoken and intelligent, quiet, reserved. His dark eyes were deep and placid.

"You're right," I said finally, "I have no fucking idea who you are. I've never met you before in my life. And my dad just told me that for the last six or seven years you've been – how did he say it, taking care of me? Like I'm a fucking baby."

I know it sounded like I didn't trust him. That was because I didn't trust him.

"Yes, something like that," the Shawlong guy said.

"I'm not a fucking baby."

"We never treated you like one."

"You never treated me like anything. You never fucking bothered to tell me about any of this!"

"What would that have achieved?"

He had me there, but I was sure as fuck not gonna show it. "For one, I-"

"That's beside the point, I think," dad said hurriedly, shooting me a glare. "Qufang-san, you know the reason we called you here. We need your help. You're…you're aware of the situation Grimmjow's in?"

"We are, yes."

"I…well, me and Grimmjow…we were wondering if-"

"You could do your fucking job and get me the fuck outta this mess," I said.

Silence fell over us. Dad was stunned at my rudeness. I crossed my arms and just looked at Shawlong, whose expression was calm and untroubled.

"I'll try my best," he said. "I have a few ideas."

His tone seriously pissed me off – _this was not a fucking game._

"Good, because this is my fucking life here Aizen's playing with and I wanna know if you're worth the money you're being paid. You're being paid, right?"

"Of course. Our services don't come cheaply."

I glanced at dad. He wilted. But the issue of the money could wait; right now, there were more important things to discuss.

"So what ideas you got? You better spill it fast, time's a-ticking," I said to Shawlong, a few minutes later. We sat at the ruined kitchen table. Dad had managed to find a mug I hadn't broken, holed away in his room, and he'd made some tea for our guest, who was sipping it calmly. Dad of course was flustered as always.

"I really apologize for my son's rude behavior-"

"It's all right, it's understandable in this sort of situation," Shawlong said dismissively, putting his cup down. "Yes, I have a few ideas. I won't lie, I've thought many a time that things might come to this and I've reflected about possible courses of action. There are a few things we could do…in particular, I've heard of some people that might be able to help you."

I was all ears. "Yeah? Who are they? How do I get in touch?"

"You don't," he said. "They're hard to contact. Very secretive."

"Wow, helpful."

He frowned a little. "There is a way. I know an address you can go to, but…after that, I'm not sure what happens."

"Again, helpful."

"Grimmjow, stop being so rude! Do _you _have any ideas?" My dad was glaring at me again. "Let him talk, do you hear me?"

"Whatever."

"This address." He turned to Shawlong. "Do you remember what it is?"

Another sip of tea, a thoughtful pause. "I'm not sure if it'll work. I've heard that they move around quite a lot. It makes it harder to find them."

"Who are they?"

"Basically, they are people who don't like Aizen. I think they work as private investigators most of the time, but their hobby is collecting information about his…shadier activities."

"I see," dad said slowly. "How do you know about them?"

"Before I agreed to work with you I did some research on Aizen's history. His past. They cropped up a few times, and what happened to them was interesting enough to stick in my mind. I've been asking around for a while now, for their whereabouts. I had a feeling that knowing who and where they were would be useful."

"But if they don't like Aizen, wouldn't it be dangerous for you to go poking your nose in their business? What if Aizen found out? He'd fucking kill your ass," I said.

Shawlong looked at me gravely. "Grimmjow-san, your father has paid me and my team for the last six years to take care of you and make sure you are safe. That is what I have been doing. It was part of the job – I have to be prepared for any eventuality. I know of your involvement with this…Kurosaki boy. I knew it would lead to complications. I have been searching for a way out for months now."

His utter seriousness took me by surprise. He wasn't kidding about, this guy; he was my fucking_ bodyguard_. Him and the rest of his team had probably put his life on the line more than a couple of dozen times to make sure I was safe and sound. And until about an hour ago I had no idea they even fucking existed.

I hated that I felt bad about it. Before, I wouldn't have cared. I'd have said,_ I don't need no fucking bodyguard. Let the fuckers come get me. Let them kill me._

And then Kurosaki came along and fucked everything up.

"Give us the address," I said.

* * *

We had to be careful. Aizen was probably watching me. He might've had someone tailing us. We took a fuckload of precautions just in case; wearing disguises, leaving in separate cars, doubling back, switching modes of transport, shit like that. What should have been a fifteen-minute journey took two fucking hours. By the end of it, my temper was just about to snap. I was ready to strangle the next person I saw.

It happened to be my dad, but he knew me too well and he could tell what kinda mood I was in. When I glared at him hatefully he smiled and patted my arm, hauled me to the address that Shawlong had given us while chattering merrily about the advantages of oil paints versus watercolors.

The instructions we followed took us to a building just on the outskirts of the town center, a pretty boring, nondescript sort of thing. It had windows and doors and stuff, like buildings usually do. See, it was so fucking boring-looking I can't even describe it properly.

We went inside, came to what looked like a reception. It was a smallish gray room, with no windows or lights apart from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and flickering uncertainly. There were no plants or magazines or pictures. Fucking depressing, I wanted to shoot myself there and then.

There was a little glass window in the far wall, where we could see a woman – probably the receptionist – sitting. She had glasses and black hair tied into a pigtail. She was reading a magazine and chewing gum with her mouth open, like she was a retarded cow. As me and dad went up to her I realized it wasn't a magazine, it was _porn._ She was brazenly just _looking at porn_ in the middle of the day.

I shoulda known then that these people would've been a bunch of freaks.

"Good afternoon, miss," my dad said, smiling at her in what he probably thought was a charming way. "Er, may I have a word with your boss?"

"No," she said.

_Flip. Flip._

Her gum popped.

I hate it when people pop their fucking gum.

"Well, excuse me, but this is very important-"

"He's busy. Go away."

Dad started getting all flustered. "Now, see here-"

"_Dad, let me handle this."_

She looked up when she heard me say it in French. Behind the glasses her eyes were like lasers.

"I don't want to waste your time or mine," I said, in Japanese. "Let us see who we want to see."

The woman – her nametag said she was called _Lisa _– stared at me, unimpressed. "No."

"It's about Aizen."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. It was a gamble, an incredibly stupid one. I was cursing myself as soon as I said it.

But they had an effect. Her eyes narrowed. She stopped chewing her fucking gum. "What?"

"Aizen Sousuke. He's the whole reason we came here in the first place. Now, you interested?"

Lisa slowly put the magazine down. "Depends on what you have to say."

"Depends on how much time you have for me to say it. I've got a lot of stuff I'd like to get off my chest…unless, of course, this ain't the right place." I looked at her, challenging her. She was definitely interested. She didn't know what I was gonna say. She wanted to find out.

"This is the right place," she said, the words slow and careful, "if there are some things you'd like to get off your chest in order to fucking hunt that sonovabitch down like the rabid pestilent dog that he is."

I was pretty sure I was in the right place.

"I'm game with that," I said. "Just lemme see your boss. I'm sure they'd like to hear from someone who's been working for _that rabid pestilent dog_ for the last seven years."

"Someone who has a few interesting stories to tell?"

"More than interesting, if you're into gore and murder and all sort of other illegal shit."

I could hear my dad make an annoyed noise at me swearing, but I'd done the job.

She nodded and swallowed her gum. Then she picked up a phone which was lying nearby, dialed a number, and said, "Hey, Shinji. I think there's someone here you might wanna talk to."


	29. the visored

**vi·sor** _noun_

1. a piece of plate armor covering the face, having slits or holes for vision, attached to or used with various other helmets

2. a means of concealment; disguise.

_verb_

3. to protect or mask with a visor; shield.

* * *

"_Hey, Shinji. I think there's someone here you might wanna talk to."

* * *

_

The Lisa chick led us through a maze of narrow corridors and endless doors. After what seemed like a lifetime she finally pushed us into a small gray office, where there were a couple of desks completely covered with old mugs of coffee and books and piles of paper. Light was streaming through the open windows but I couldn't see anyone else there. I looked at dad; by the expression on his face I could tell he was just as confused as I was.

Lisa frowned and muttered under her breath. She went to the desk furthest away from the door and ducked down underneath it. I heard muffled shouting, a bang; she came back up holding a skinny blond guy by the short hairs at the back of the neck, snapping at him.

"What the hell, Shinji, I called you just a few minutes ago! What are you doing down there?"

"What? Yer so mean," the man whined, in the most annoying nasal voice I'd ever heard. "Don't shout at me fer havin' a nap, I was _tired!"_

"Shut up, you idiot. You're an adult – act like one!" With that, she heaved him into a chair and slapped him around the back of the head.

"Aw, Lisa, yer gettin' jus' like Hiyori! Where's all this violence comin' from, eh?"

"Get to work, moron!" she yelled, and swept out the room. She didn't even give us a second look and slammed the door shut, leaving me and dad with the crazy blond guy. He was poking around the desk with a distracted look on his face. He didn't even notice us until a few seconds later, and when he did he just blinked.

Hirako Shinji wasn't what I expected. Tall, lanky, blond hair cut into the gayest style I'd ever seen. And the _teeth._ God above, don't get me started on his freaky teeth. When he saw us gawping he raised an eyebrow and said, "Are you two jus' gonna stand there and stare? Siddown already."

"Where?" dad asked. It was an excellent question; just about every flat surface in the place was piled high with folders and files and books. We could hardly move for them.

Hirako shrugged. He dragged two chairs in front of his desk and shoved the contents off the seats. We perched on them uncomfortably while Hirako grabbed a cup of coffee and took a mouthful. He made a face and spat it back out seconds later.

"Cold," he explained, seeing the disgusted look on my face. "Right, why're you here again?"

"Lisa didn't tell you?" dad said.

"Lisa doesn't tell me shit. So, enlighten me, eh?" He put his elbows on the desk and propped his chin up with his fists. He was smiling but there was a sheen to his eyes that unnerved me. I tried not to look at him too much. There was a strange sensation I got from him; the way he moved, all fluid and efficient, made me feel like he could kick my ass if he wanted to, and that pissed me off.

To calm myself down I took out my pack of smokes and lit one up. As I inhaled I could feel my blood slowing and my nerves settling down.

"We're here to talk about Aizen Sousuke," I said, smoke seeping out the corners of my mouth.

At those words, Hirako's whole appearance changed. His eyes narrowed. He sat up straighter, looked at us with a little more caution. "Is that right."

"Yeah," I said. "See, I'm in kind of a sticky situation here and I heard you could get me out."

"I ain't yer momma, boy, dunno what I could do."

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me-"

"Ah ah _ah!"_ He held up a finger, not quite stern but not teasing either. "Yer gonna be nice. I don't tolerate rude little brats like you for long. Manners cost nothing. Ain't that right?"

"That's right!" dad said, beaming. "Do you hear that Grimmjow, swearing is not nice!"

"This isn't about swearing! For fuck's sake-"

"Watch yer language," Hirako said. "Another thing…." He leaned over and plucked the cigarette out my mouth, threw it into the cup of cold coffee from before. "None of that, either. 'S bad fer ya. All right now, since we got that outta the way, how's about we get some intros done, yeah? I'm Shinji. You probably know that by now. Who're you and why're you here?"

"I'm Grimmjow and this is my dad," I said. "And we're here 'cuz like I said before, we…need your help. You know. With Aizen."

"Right. That doesn't explain a lot."

"Yeah, it wasn't meant to. See, I wanna get some shit sorted out first."

"Shoot."

"Who the fuck _are _you?"

He laughed and his smile split his face. Almost literally. "That ain't important."

"I wanna know who I'm dealing with."

Hirako mulled it over for a while, then said, "I ain't telling you shit till I know I can trust ya. And that means you divulging more about yer…what was it, yer 'sticky situation'."

"Same with me. I ain't _divulging_ a thing until I know more about you."

He shrugged and sat back. "OK. You know where the door is, right?"

I opened my mouth to shout at him, and I felt my dad's hand on my arm. He was looking at me pleadingly. I glanced at him, then back at Hirako, who was smiling again. I closed my mouth with a snap, nostrils flaring with irritation.

"Fine," I growled. "Right, so a week ago Aizen took me along on a little trip and killed a guy in front of me. Then he did it a couple more times, and I'm supposed to start doing the same in two weeks. Satisfied?"

He didn't react much, which pissed me off. I'd been hoping for his eyes to widen a little bit at least. Instead, his gaze just got more calculating.

"OK, now I'm a lil' more interested," he said. "What the hell was that about?"

"I work for him. Aizen. Have done for seven years. And now I want out."

"Simple in theory," Hirako said, "but in practice…"

"I know. That's why I need you. I heard you could help."

"From who?"

"A…guy I know."

"Huh. And whaddya think I could do, eh?"

"I don't know!" I snapped. "For fuck's sake, I came to you because I thought you had some fucking answers, not more questions!"

"Then tell me more. If I'm gonna help ya– and I ain't sure I can, y'know – then I need to know everything."

He stared at me expectantly. I glanced at my dad and he nodded imperceptibly. I sighed, closing my eyes. For the second time that day I told him about everything, right from the start. I didn't miss out a detail. The dealing drugs, the beatings, the robberies, every shitty thing I'd done just because Aizen told me to do it. Just because I needed someone to tell me what to do, because I needed other people around me who did the same. Because I needed _some _sort of family in those days, as crazy and fucked-up and dysfunctional as it was.

When I finished Hirako looked more thoughtful than ever. He was tapping a finger against his chin and bit his lip, and then a huge smile spread slowly across his face. It was not the reaction I was expecting.

"Why the fuck are you smiling?" I asked. "This is no something to smile about, you stupid fuck!"

"What did I tell ya about swearin'?" he said.

"You-"

"Shut up, brat."

I'd gone red. No one'd _ever_ been this fucking rude to me. I was so goddamn pissed off I almost took the fucking coffee mug and smashed it in his face but then Hirako continued talking and what he said was interesting enough that I had to listen.

"All righty, you've done yer bit. I guess I hafta, as well."

"Huh?"

"Yer kinda dumb, huh? I'mma tell you my history. Or a lil' bit, at least."

"With Aizen?"

"No brat, with Hitler. Of course Aizen! Now you jus' sit down and shut up, stop glarin' at me like that, yer face'll get stuck that way."

I had to stuff my fist in my mouth to stop myself from punching him. Hirako cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head.

"All right. I'm gonna make this really short 'cuz the full version would bore ya dead. So, imagine you've graduated from one of th' best law schools in the country, if not the world, and you've been hired by this really prestigious company for the last few years and yer really rakin' it in, yeah? And then all of a sudden you get this assistant – Aizen, of course - and for some reason you don't…" He trailed off, fighting to find the right word. "You don't _like _'im. So you investigate and you find out he's done some weird, suspicious stuff at college but it's all been brushed under the carpet. You watch him carefully, just in case. Money disappears. People disappear. He gets up to strange things but somehow gets away with it all because he's a model student, a model employee, perfect at everything he does. You ask about it, you follow it up, but nothin' happens. And this carries on for a bit but all the while yer watchin' this young man 'cuz there's just something_ off_ about 'im. No one else believes you except for some of yer friends who work with you. But…"

Hirako stopped there and closed his eyes. He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. "I can't tell you all of this 'cuz to be honest I dunno the whole story yet, right? Some crazy stuff happened. Anyway, we found him out. Me and the team. He…he…"

"What did he do?" I asked. Dad was sitting rooted to the chair next to me, gripping the armrests with white-knuckled hands.

"He murdered around forty of the company stockholders and execs," Hirako said.

For some reason I was surprised. I shouldn't have been. I knew Aizen was a murderous bastard, but hearing those words, it still made a chill slither down my spine.

"Wait, what? _Forty?_ At the _same time?"_

"No, of course not all at the same time! He played it all out really carefully, see? He picked guys that had no family or friends, who hardly went out, so they weren't missed for a while. And after he killed them he sent orders for 'em, so it looked like everything was normal and shit. Working behind the scenes for money an' power."

"But he got away with it? What the fuck? _How?_ And how'd you find out?"

"Like I said, I was watching him pretty carefully. I knew something was up. I did some investigation, nosed around a little. And then I…" He took a deep breath. "I went to see one of 'em, an' I..saw the body. I…it was…I jus' wanted to go higher up the chain, make myself heard. And…_God,_ he was stupid!"

Sudden rage in his voice made him spit. Those brown eyes narrowed to slits. "Aizen didn't get rid of the bodies, the cocky lil' fuck. Thought he'd get away with everything. So they were all still there, just rottin' away. Fuckin'…urgh, fuckin' disgustin'."

"What happened?"

"Well, I reported him to the police of course. Told them about everythin' that happened. And I got ma friends to back me up, to report his ass too."

"It didn't work though, obviously."

"No shit, brat." He let out another sigh, one that seemed to come from the very tips of his toes and left him sagging in his chair. "This next bit's complicated, I don't wanna bore ya. Long story short, I was so fuckin' sure I had him._ So_ fuckin' sure. And yet, he managed to turn it all around and blame the whole thing on me. I dunno how, I honest to god don't 'cuz the evidence was all there. Should've been easy as pie to get 'im locked up."

"But…?"

"But I was one of the best fucking lawyers out there at the time so I managed to wiggle outta it. It took a lotta time and effort, but we managed it. By that time though, no one trusted us. All our names were blacklisted, we were 'let go' from our jobs and we couldn't find work anywhere in the country." He paused for a moment, his fists tightening. "And then came the cherry on the sundae: we tried to expose Aizen for the creepy fucking fraud he is, and he tried to kill us all."

"Yeah, it's a weird thing of his. Hope you didn't take it personally."

Hirako stared at me with dark eyes. "Yer jokin' now, but I think the snappy comebacks might dry up when the barrel of a loaded gun is ready to blow yer head off."

"He doesn't like shooting the head. Says it's messy."

"We escaped," He continued, ignoring me. "But barely. He had enough power then to beat us down and we couldn't raise our fucking heads for being shot at. And we still can't do a thing or else we'd get killed. Or worse. We've been survivin' like this for years, scraping a livin' off of takin' on odd jobs here an' there."

"And you never tried to expose him again?" dad asked. "After the first time, I mean?"

"Nah, 'course not!, 'Cuz no one's gonna_ fight_ 'im. Most people're too scared." Hirako grinned at me. "But I can tell yer in enough of a desperate situation that you don't give a crap, right?"

I sneered. "Whatever. You think what I have to say might make a difference?"

"Well, no one who's ever worked fer 'im has given us info. He's gotten rid of anyone he thinks might betray 'im, either by killing them or threatenin' their family or whatever." He cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. "No one knows exactly what sort of shit he's done but the people closest to him. And from what you told me just there, I can tell that yer one of them."

Ooh, too far.

"_What?_ Jesus fuck, dude, back the fuck up. No way I'm close to the fucker! I don't even _like_ him!"

"But you've worked with 'im fer years. You know what he's done. You have proof – eye-witness accounts, documents, tapes." His were bright, he was getting more animated. "You've worked for 'im for so damn long, you brat! Do you even know how much you change the fucking equation?"

"Yeah, but, what I have won't hold up on its own –"

"It's not on its own!" Hirako snapped. "Do you know how much fucking material we've been putting together? We've got _cupboards _full of proof of the nasty shit he's done: all the drugs, the guns, the human trafficking. We know what we need to do, all we need is that lil' bit fucking more to tip the balance. And that's what you are, all right? Just a lil' more, and we can put him away for good!"

"Will this go to court?"

"Of course it will!"

"He'll fucking kill me! Or he'll kill Ku-" I choked, and shut my mouth. I couldn't even fucking say it.

"Ku…?" Hirako said, raising an eyebrow.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," I said. "He's…I want him protected as well. If he gets hurt, I'll kill you."

"Who is he? We ain't no bodyguards, he better be worth it."

"Of course he's fucking worth it!" I snarled, standing up and planting my hands on the desk, towering over Hirako's sitting form. "You fuckin' promise me, you keep him safe. Otherwise we got no deal. I walk outta here right here and now."

"Grimmjow, stop-"

"Shut up, dad." I didn't let my gaze stray from the serious look on Hirako Shinji's face. "You promise me you keep him safe. I'll give you anything you need, I'll go to court, I'll pay you, but you keep him safe. You hear me? One hair on his head gets touched and I swear to God I'll kill you."

"That's a pretty serious threat."

"I know. I'm one hundred percent serious, asshole. I mean it." I leaned closer to him, until I was practically breathing in his face. My voice lowered. "Do whatever you can, whatever you have to do. I'll do anything."

Hirako tilted his head to the side a little and just watched me. He didn't say anything for about a minute, then said softly, "What about this, then? I'll keep tabs on this…Kurosaki Ichigo. I'll make sure he's kept safe, yeah? For as long as it takes until Aizen gets what he deserves. How about that? Would ya work with us? Do we have a deal?"

"Not so fast, fucker. We're gonna work this out. No bullshitting. No being vague. No going back on anything. I might tell you everything but I don't want Kurosaki hearing a _single fucking word_ about this."

"You wanna protect him that bad?"

"Aizen said he'd kill him. I know he'd do it. It's my fault. I got careless. I'm not gonna let him get hurt 'cuz I was a retard."

"He won't. He won't. Not a hair on his lil' head is gonna get touched, you hear me? I'll make sure of it. With what you got, we can put Aizen away for good. We can destroy him completely." Hirako leaned forward, his cool façade cracking and eagerness oozing out. "Think about that for a sec. He's gone. Yer free. Kurosaki Ichigo is safe. You can do whatever the fuck you want without having to watch yer back all the time. Yer _free."_

I thought about it.

Shit, that was tempting.

A free life. Hadn't had one of those in a long time.

If ever. Had I ever been free? First it was my mother, then it was Aizen. If he was gone, I'd be _free._

That word was so unimaginably delicious, you don't even fucking know.

"Think about it, brat. After this you don't hafta worry that one day you might not wake up in the morning. Yer dad'll be safe. You'll be safe, Kurosaki Ichigo'll be safe. Aizen'll be behind bars, we'll get all his nasty lil' friends too, and we can all skip happily into the sunset and _live our fucking lives."_

Hirako was almost snarling. He'd been hiding for a long time. Too long. He was tired of it.

I knew the feeling. I felt like that too.

I imagined waking up and not fearing for my life. For Kurosaki's life. We could hang out and just do stuff without having to look over our shoulders, I could leave him alone and not be afraid I'd never see him again, I could live without a gigantic fucking black rain cloud hovering above my head, without the threat of a gun between my teeth. It was a clean, happy, perfect world.

It was too good to be true. Too easy. Too simple. It'd never work out.

"Yeah," I said. "OK."

What other choice did I have, anyway? If I went to the fucking police I woulda been killed for sure. Actually continuing to work for Aizen was out of the fucking question because there was no way I'd be a murderer. As far as I could see there was nothing else I could do apart from changing my name and fleeing the fucking country.

"Really?" Hirako was staring at me. "You mean it?"

"Of course I do, retard. What the fuck else am I gonna do? Waltz over to the cops and spill my guts? I'd get them spilled for real if I did that."

"Yeah…OK…" He blinked, paused for a second, then said, "Shit, OK, we're really gonna do this."

"Yeah."

"OK. Right. Fuck, we're gonna do this."

"Then get off yer fucking ass and do something insteada just sittin' there," I said, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. Hirako blinked a few more times, before standing up abruptly and almost making his chair topple over.

"Yer right. Gotta move now. How much time did he give ya?"

"Before I start? A coupla weeks."

He flinched. "Shit, seriously?"

"Yeah. Why? That not enough?"

"Cases like this take _months _to prepare for," he said. "Sometimes years. A coupla weeks…"

"Is better than nothing," dad said quietly, surprising everyone else. Me and Hirako'd forgotten he was even there.

"Don't get bogged down by this, boys," he continued. "How long have you wanted this? And now you both finally have the opportunity. Don't look at the dark, look at the light. You are a team now and you have to work together. Your _lives_ depend on this."

No one spoke after he finished. The sunlight was heavy and settled over us like a cloak, dust motes swirling the air. I could feel the silence lie thick on my tongue and it stopped me from talking.

Our lives depended on this.

_Our._

Not just mine. It wasn't just about me, for once. My dad could get hurt. Hirako was putting everything on the line. And Kurosaki…

"Do you even think it'll work?" I asked finally, shattering the silence.

"It has to," Hirako said.

There was no arguing with that. His statement was nothing but the truth; it_ had_ to work. Otherwise we were all as good as dead.

"By the way," I said, "there's something else."

"Something else?"

"Yeah. I…well, it's just…"

"Just spit it out, brat."

I swallowed and reached into my pocket. It was still in the envelope. I'd cleaning out my drawers and I'd seen it tucked into a corner, hidden under empty cigarette packages and crumpled up pieces of paper. For a couple of seconds I just stood and stared at it for a while because every incident involved with this stupid piece of shit suddenly just leapt into my head.

"_You think you don't need my help. But do you want it?" _

"_Aw c'mon, c'mon, won't you assholes join in? Let's have a little fun here, eh? Whaddya say?"_

"_This is no time for jokes! The house next door has been broken into, and they're asking us all if we saw anything!"_

"_I didn't know people still listened to tapes. Dude, are you still living in the Stone Age or what?"_

How long ago had it been, when Aizen first sent me out to get it? More than a year ago. Me and Kurosaki, we were just starting not to hate each other. I still wanted my drugs, I was still a little fucked in the head, I was still so fucking bitter and angry and violent. To look at myself now and see myself then, it blew me away to realize how much had changed.

"What's this?" Hirako asked, looking with a raised eyebrow at the tape in my hand.

"Something Aizen wants. A lot."

"And how'd you know that?"

"Because he was gonna pay a few million yen for it."

_That _made him pay attention. "Oh yeah? Is there gonna be another story behind this too?"

Aw fuck, here we go again, ten more minutes of story-time. "Yeah. Basically he was gonna buy it off Inugumi Daichi last year but some shit happened and I ended up with it."

"Inugumi Daichi was assassinated last year," Hirako said, a dark look in his eyes. "Does that have anything to do with this?"

"I think so. I think Aizen found out that…well, I switched the tapes so that he got a fake. So he probably thought Inugumi was behind it and killed him for double-crossing him or some shit like that."

"And Aizen's never asked you about the tape? He's never suspected that you might have stolen it?"

"Dunno. Hope to fuck he doesn't."

"Right. That's interestin'. Y'know what's on it?"

"No clue."

He held his hand out. "OK. Can I see?"

The tape didn't weigh much at all but it was still hard to let go of, for some reason. I held it in my hand, looking at it, wondering what fresh hell it could unleash on me now. It had haunted me so long it should've been a relief to let it go but at the same time I knew I was standing on the edge of a cliff and I was about to jump into a stormy sea.

This was the last step. This was it. I handed this fucking thing over to Hirako and he'd watch it and then he'd put all this shit together, all the evidence and the testimonies and the years of work, and we'd try and put Aizen in jail.

"Grimmjow?"

My dad put a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed a little and smiled at me. My throat was dry and my body was shaking just the tiniest bit when I finally gave the tape to Hirako; I let it fall onto his hand, long bony fingers splayed out and hovering above his desk.

As soon as it left me it was like I was stepping into another universe, walking from one world into another. The pit of my stomach tightened. If everything went to plan, for a while after today, life was gonna be hell.

"You OK?" Hirako asked me. "Yer all pale."

"I'm fine."

"I'll watch this in a few minutes. You go home and relax fer a bit an' I'll call ya. We'll arrange a meeting soon and we can talk things over, yeah?"

"Yeah." How the fuck was I supposed to 'relax for a bit' with this shit hitting off? Then I thought about what he said and frowned. "Wait, you'll _watch_ it?"

"Well duh. It ain't no mix-tape, moron."

"What is it then, asshole?"

He shrugged. "Looks like a tape you'd use in a camcorder or somethin'. Definitely not the type for music. You didn't check this out before?"

"No. I didn't want anything to do with it. I don't want anything to do with Aizen. Everything about that life is behind me, now."

He looked at me for a second then asked, in a quiet voice, "You sure you wanna do this?"

"No backing out now," I said in a tight voice. "I don't have any other options."

There was a pause, uncomfortable and stretching taut between us. We weren't sure what was gonna happen after this. It was almost like I was stepping out of my body, rising high and looking down on those three people, standing in that small dusty room. A moment, a minute, that would be forever etched into my memories because that was the exact second I stopped being a dumb, rude, egotistical kid and became a man. A man who was still rude and selfish and violent, yeah, but a man in any case.

I was growing up. It was the beginning of the end.


	30. patience or lack thereof

**pa·tience** _noun _

1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.

2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay

3. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care

* * *

"How long as it been?"

"Two months."

Renji whistled. We were outside a cafe, braving the cold winds and icy temperatures. Only not. It was late spring, and the weather was warm enough that I could go outside with only a shirt and a hoodie on. The sky was blue. Sun was shining. Birds singing. Shit like that. I looked, I saw, but it wasn't absorbed. These things slid off my consciousness the way water slides off a duck's feathers.

"Shouldn't you call him?"

"No."

"Ichigo, this isn't normal. If your boyfriend or girlfriend just takes off one night and they don't contact you for _two months, _don't you think that's a sign of something?"

I shook my head. "I'm waiting."

"You're...there's no word for what you are." Renji glanced at me and sighed.

"I know what you're thinking, and I don't care if you think I'm an idiot. There're just things I have to trust him with." I trusted him. I did. I trusted him. It was just so _hard,_ to live like this.

"No wait, I have a word for you - you're whipped, that's what you are. Completely and absolutely."

"I know." I smiled a little despite myself. But at the thought of it, at the thought of having not seen him in two whole months, the smile faded.

"And you're depressed, too," Renji observed.

"I'm not _depressed_, I'm just-"

"You need a good time, Ichigo. You can't stay in all the time and mope, you know that? God knows I've done that plenty of times and it never works out. 'Specially recently." He shrugged a little and pulled out a cigarette from a pack in his pocket, lighting it up and taking a draw in a few unpractised movements. Smoking was never something he did very often considering that he took his health too seriously, but when he was really down in the dumps he could never say no.

"Renji?" I frowned at him a little. "What's up?"

He took another pull, exhaled, tapped his foot against the ground. After a second or two he said, "Rukia and I broke up."

I gaped at him. Renji and Rukia had broken up? Renji and Rukia, so perfect for each other, so in love with each other, had _broken up?_ This was impossible. It was like my world was crumbling.

"What? No way, you two've been into each other since forever! When did this happen?"

"Just a few days ago." The cigarette stuck out at an odd angle from his mouth and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, gazing out unseeingly into the distance. "We both thought it was for the best."

"But _why-"_

His thin lips curved into a slight smile. "Ah, see, there I have some good news. I haven't told many people but...well."

"What? What happened!"

Renji's eyes were sparkling. "I was signed."

"Signed? For what?"

The small smile got wider and toothier, the dark expression lifted from his face. "I'm _signed,_ Ichigo. For a club. I'm a _professional!"_

"Wait...you mean you-?"

"Yup. That soccer match, the one you brought Jaegerjaques to, it was pretty damn fuckin' important-"

"So the talent scout-"

"He saw me," Renji grinned, "and we got talking after the game. I wanted to see you afterwards, but...well, you and Jaegerjaques were pretty much glued to each other and I thought I'd leave you to it. And me and the scout met up a few more times, got things worked out, and then bam! A couple weeks later and it was done. I move in bit and get started then."

"That's..." I shook my head, starting to smile too. "Fucking hell Renji, that's amazing! That's so cool!"

He started laughing, and I felt my mood lift seeing him so happy. It finally dawned on me – the reason he hadn't been worried about his exam results, why he'd been training so hard lately even though we had left school, his irrational excitement at the thought of moving to Tokyo. It all fit together.

After a few minutes and another cigarette ("It's my last one, I promise Ichi!") we were gonna head back inside the cafe when I felt a question brush at the back of my mind.

"Hey, Renji."

"Mm?"

"You and Rukia...you can't make it work? People do long distance all the time..."

He smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, but sometimes you need to know when to let go, don't you think?" He gave me a meaningful glance but I ignored it. He shook his head.

"God, you're so whipped."

"I love him."

Renji opened his mouth to say something, saw the pained look on my face. Whatever he was feeling at the moment seemed to slide straight into sympathy. All he did was put an arm around my shoulder and say, "It's the most terrifying thing in the world, right?"

"Totally."

"Promise me if it gets too much, you'll forget about him."

"You know I can't do that."

Renji looked at my expression, and his eyebrows dipped down. "Aw fuck, Ichigo. What've you gotten yourself into?"

"I dunno. He's always in trouble."

"He was a bad choice."

"I never _chose _it."

"Yeah, that's true," Renji said, after a second. "Who'd choose something like this?"

"He said he'd come back."

Renji didn't speak for a while. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Then,

"Ichigo, there's a party tonight at Rukia's place. Big one, so that everyone can see each other one last time before we all split up and stuff. You wanna go?"

"Oh, I dunno."

"Everyone'll be there. _Everyone._ Like the good old times. C'mon, please?"

There was a beseeching light in his eyes, one I could never resist. I felt the corners of my mouth pull up into a tiny smile.

"Yeah, OK. Why not."

**

* * *

**_I bet you're confused, right? So let's rewind._

_Back, back, back in time…

* * *

_

* * *

"_You'll manage something, Ichigo. It's no big deal. There are tons of jobs in the world." _Ikkaku shrugs and moves on. He has a job – he works at the Academy now as a teacher. He's fine.

"_Aw Ichi, you gotta stop worrying. You never wanted to be a doctor anyway, right? So this is, like, a good thing for you!" _Renji's never bothered by anything. He's so laidback about shit like this. Why can't I be more like him?

"_Medicine is so hard, Ichi! Just be glad. You were meant to be something else." _What was I meant to be, Rangiku? I can't see anything else apart from the fact that everything seems to be going wrong for me.

"_I don't know what got into you, Kurosaki. That Jaegerjaques is a bad influence." _Shut up Ishida.

I stand there and listen to them, friends, family, teachers, hear what they say, don't care. I've done better in my exams than I've expected but there's still not a chance in hell I could get into medicine. I can't become a doctor. I can't be a surgeon. I can't help my dad with the clinic or be useful in any way to my family. I'm basically a failure.

Almost one and a half months, and still no contact. Nothing. Not a phone call, not one text. I'm not even aware of speaking anymore.

"I'm sorry, dad."

He shakes his head, puts a hand on my shoulder. I feel it but I don't. I just feel numb, to be honest. Even my voice is numb.

"I don't care about this, Ichigo. I don't give a shit. You never wanted this anyway – you wanted to do it to help me, and I'm happy you thought of me but you're living _your _life, not mine. So you go right ahead and do what you want to do because no matter what, I'm proud of you, and I always will be."

The most we've spoken together in months. For a while I just look at him, see the permanent stubble on his chin, the dark eyes that my sisters inherited, the stubborn chin that I got – I don't see my dad but I see _Isshin Kurosaki_, tall, crazy, middle-aged, awesome doctor. I see him, see him clearly for the first time: he's a guy who's always done right by his kids. He's done nothing but his best for us, through the good times and the bad, and he's come out shining. He's a father I can be proud of.

"Thanks, dad." I smile for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, and what's more, I actually mean it.

"He loves you, Ichigo," dad's voice is quiet, "even a blind man could see it. Just be strong."

He smiles back at me, squeezed my shoulder. Tackles me out of the blue and almost ends up knocking me out – I almost break his arm as repayment. Back to normal.

Dad is there with me. So are my sisters. Renji, Chad, Rukia, everyone. Maybe this won't be so hard.

* * *

**_Let go of the past and go for the future. Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined._ ~ Henry David Thoreau

* * *

**

It'd been just a couple of weeks since Grimmjow left. My attention span had been shot to hell.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick _

_Tick_

The hands moved slowly around the face of the clock and the noise echoed like thunder in my head. My eyes stared at the paper in front of me but saw nothing. My pencil was tapping against my hand, and cold sweat was running down the back of my neck.

I should have known the questions. I should have known the answers to the questions. I had studied for this, why wasn't anything happening? Why couldn't I find the answer?

Words, words I was reading, words I knew, they ran through my head. _Respiration, protein, sympathetic nervous system, glycolysis_; all this and more, all shit that I should know about. Things that I should be able to recite from memory in my sleep. My palms were sweating because I couldn't. I didn't know any of this – I looked at the lines, at the articles and the graphs and the questions, and I didn't know what I was doing.

Numbers and figures and dates and names. Nothing meant anything to me. Math, History, Chemistry, almost everything passed in a blur of panic and the rustle of paper, seeing everyone crouched over their desk with the most intense expression on their face. The quiet sound of a hundred pencils writing furiously. Me staring blankly at a white page, not knowing what to do, lost, drowning, knowing that time was running out. And somehow, I found that mostly I didn't care.

There was always one empty seat where Grimmjow should have been. He'd spent hardly any time at school the last few years, always just wandering in or out of class to see me. But lately there had been no blue hair to catch my eye, no shit-eating grin to get my blood boiling. There was just one huge Grimmjow-shaped hole in my life.

_I love you, Kurosaki._

I felt sick. I couldn't concentrate. The minutes seemed to pass so slowly but before I was even aware of it, people were handing in their papers, scraping back chairs, and I could hear them chattering excitedly outside. I had hardly written anything but I gave it in anyway. I knew I was going to disappoint everyone – my dad, my sisters, my teachers, most of all myself – but just could not bring myself to care. Some big black shroud was hanging over my head, making even the most mundane activities something like torture.

Grimmjow, you haven't even been gone that long. Less than a month. How much more d'you think I can take?

* * *

**_We could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world. _~ Helen Keller

* * *

**

My phone was ringing. It was five in the morning. Only one person in the world called me at that time of day.

"_Kurosaki, that you?"_

"Who else would it be, whaddya want?" I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"_Whatever, I'm coming over. Got some things to talk about."_

"Like what?"

"_Just stuff. See ya."_

He hung up and I was left lying there in the dark, my eyes half-glued together from exhaustion. I was too tired to think about what he'd said, so I rolled over and went back to sleep.

A light tapping at my window woke me up later. I ignored it and stuffed a pillow over my head. The tapping got louder and louder. Then all of a sudden it stopped and the shrill ringing of the front door, combined with a furious knocking, had me falling out of my bed, cursing. The fuck was that?

I tore out of my room, ran down the stairs and ripped the door open; there he was, in all his tall, annoying glory.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer me, you stupid dick?" Grimmjow snapped, blue eyes blazing with anger. "It's fucking freezing and I was out there for like five minutes!"

"I dunno, maybe cuz it's..." I checked my watch, squinting at it in the dark, "cuz it's half five in the morning, moron!"

Grimmjow growled and pushed past me inside, stomping into the kitchen and throwing open the fridge door. I heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Yuzu, hair sticking out in every direction and a bathrobe thrown over her pajamas.

"Nii-chan?" She yawned and rubbed her eyes, voice drugged with sleep. "Is everything all right? What's going on?"

I ruffled her hair and she made a face, moving away. "Nothing, Yuzu. Just...Grimmjow's here. Go back to bed."

At the mention of his name she smiled and nodded, eyes already half-closed. I turned her around and pushed her gently in the direction of her bedroom, and she went up the stairs like a zombie.

"Who was that?" Grimmjow wandered over to the door and leaned against it, holding an open beer can in his hand.

"Yuzu. And don't steal my beer, asshole."

He didn't answer back; no sharp comebacks, no insults, nothing. He stood and stared at the can in his hand, frowning deeply. There were dark shadows under his eyes and in that strange light I noticed that there were deep wrinkles in his forehead and between his eyebrows, like he was permanently worried.

I didn't remember him being like that until just a few weeks ago. I didn't remember him being so stressed, so on edge and so _pale._ Grimmjow hadn't looked as bad as that since he had been an addict. What the hell was happening to him? Had he started doing drugs again?

The thought of him relapsing had my annoyance at him melting away instantly. I swallowed the lump in my throat, tried to control myself.

"Hey, are you OK?" I moved closer to him and placed my against his cheek. I could feel that he hadn't shaved in days; his hair was greasy too, and his lips were dry and cracked. Basically he looked like shit.

His head came up and Grimmjow stared at me very seriously. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just need to talk to you, like I said."

"Oh man, don't say it like that," I said, with a slightly nervous smile. "You're getting me all jumpy."

"It's nothing big. Not...about us, yeah?" A long pull from the beer can; he emptied it, then crumpled it up and threw it into a trashcan. "Look. Let's...go somewhere else. I can't talk about shit like this in your kitchen."

He took my hand in a bruising grip and dragged me to the sofa in the living room, flopping down on it and pulling me on top of him. For once, I didn't say anything about him treating me like a ragdoll. There were bigger things to worry about.

"So..." he said. He squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed them hard, sighing. "Well. Anyway. Yeah."

"Grimmjow, what the fuck is going on?"

"I'm going away for a while," he blurted out, not looking at me.

"You're what?" I stared at him, expression incredulous. "Going away?"

"Yeah."

"Like on a vacation?"

He thought about it for a while. Shrugged. "Not really. More...more like a business trip."

I think my eyebrows almost disappeared into my hairline. "What? You can't be serious. For...whatshisname. Uh...Abe? Aoki?"

A moment of silence followed, where Grimmjow looked at me with the most disbelieving look on his face.

"Kurosaki, you gotta be shittin' me. You forgot his _name?"_

"You know what I'm like with names!" I said defensively, crossing my arms. "I've never met the guy, how am I supposed to remember him?"

"I've said it about a million times for the last _year!"_

"So what? That doesn't mean anything - I can meet the same person like a thousand times and still not remember their name! Shit Grimmjow, there're people in our _class _I still don't know after three years, and we're just about to graduate!"

"You are the biggest retard I've ever met."

"Well, you know what they say about birds of a feather..." He tried to smack me, but I dodged and grinned at him. "Anyway, what is his name? Your boss? It begins with 'A', right?"

"You're such a moron," he said. Then, out of nowhere, the biggest smile just appeared on his face. All the worry lines disappeared, and he didn't look like a man old before his time anymore.

"So are you."

"Look, you guess his name and I'll tell you when you get it."

"Right. Um...Asano?"

"Nope."

"Arisawa?"

"You're just listing yer friends' names. Think outside the box, idiot."

"Aoyama? Ashikaga? Akamine?"

With every name that I offered Grimmjow's smile just got wider and wider. It was frustrating me; just because I was bad with names didn't mean I was _stupid._ I hated when people made fun of me, but that's not an unusual thing, right? Most of the world hates being made to look like a fool.

"Fine, I give up!" I said after listing about a hundred names, trying not to pout like a little kid. "I don't care what he's called. Whatever."

Grimmjow let me slide from his lap until my legs were just draped across his. My grumpy expression made no difference to him. He brushed some hair behind my ear, leaned in close and whispered,

"It doesn't matter what his name is. He's a son of a bitch, and I hate him."

"Well, I remember _that_ at least."

Grimmjow rested his forehead against mine. He was staring into my eyes. I tried staring back but it made me cross-eyed and feel like an idiot, so I gave up trying.

"Don't try and distract me, idiot. How long are you leaving for?" I asked, hating how miserable I sounded.

"I dunno. Maybe weeks. Months."

"_Months?_ No way!"

"Yes way. It's...not gonna be easy. I'm...leaving the town for a while."

"But I thought you said you were trying to get out!" I almost yelled. "You know, get out as in, stop working for this guy! How the hell is 'going away' for _months_ with him gonna do anything?"

Grimmjow hesitated. "I just need to do this and then that's it. I'm done. He'll be gone. I hope."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It's better than nothing," he said calmly. "I've spent almost six years doing this shit. A couple of months is nothing. I can be patient."

"For once."

"Will you wait?"

It threw me off. I blinked at him."Wait? For what?"

"Me."

He was still staring hard at me, locking me in place with those insane blue eyes. I couldn't tear myself away. Every second, every moment we had shared together in the last few years; the memories flooded my mind, so many I was almost numb. Everything in that moment was so perfectly balanced that I felt my whole body just fill with happiness.

"Of course I'll wait for you. I..." My voice cracked and Grimmjow waited, watching me.

"You what?" he asked softly.

"I..."

I didn't know why it was so hard to say those words. Why was it so hard? The feeling came so naturally, I had felt it for so long, why couldn't my brain just wrap itself around the idea? Why couldn't my body obey me and just tell him?

"I just want to know when you're leaving," I said. It was the lamest thing ever.

The hope on his face faded and Grimmjow's expression became hard and closed-off. "Today."

"What? But-"

"I wanted to see you," he cut me off. "I know I've been...kind of an asshole lately. But when I'm back, everything'll be fine, OK?"

"You can't be leaving today, you didn't_ warn_ me-"

"I know."

"What the fuck is going on, Grimmjow?" I was almost shouting with desperation, grabbing his shirt. "I know there's more going on, why won't you tell me? Why don't you trust me with all of this?"

I could have cried, I swear, I was that damn infuriated. Grimmjow sighed again, ran a hand through hair that was already messy.

"It's not that I don't trust you, all right? Let's not go through that again."

He was sitting there all cool and calm, gazing at me with still eyes the depth of the ocean. I had never seen him like this before, so composed, so ready, so un-violent and reasonable. Since the last time I had seen him, he seemed to have grown somehow, _matured_. He had become someone else in just a few short days, and I didn't know how. I had no idea what had changed him.

"Grimmjow, just tell me. What the hell is happening?" It was almost begging_. Almost._

"I'mma just ask you this one thing, Kurosaki," he said quietly, "one thing, all right? For the first and only time, ever. Just trust me on this. No questions. No probing or whatever. Just accept there's shit I can't involve you with, and that it's better for everyone involved. OK?"

"But-"

"If I told you that I loved you, would that make it easier?"

I froze. My heart started banging so hard against my ribcage I thought it would break my bones, my stomach was churning, every nerve was electrified and I couldn't fucking move.

"Wh...what?"

"I love you, Kurosaki."

The sound that escaped me could only be described as a cross between a gurgle and a whimper. I mean...I had not been expecting _that._

"I...um...I..."

He smiled. He was so damn fucking calm. So unlike himself. "I need to leave soon."

"That...you..."

"And you can't call me, all right? It's better if we don't talk. No calls, no texts, nothing. I can't see you. Not until it's all finished and I come back. Understand?"

At last, _at last,_ that snapped me out of my incoherency.

"You _asshole!"_

I jumped up and towered over Grimmjow, glaring and spitting and so fucking furious I can't even – "You fucking asshole, that is it. That – you can't do that. You can't come over here and say this shit out of nowhere, tell me you're leaving for months and that you can't tell me, you know how suspicious all this sounds? Like...like you're doing something really illegal or something. As if you could get in trouble or get thrown in jail or – fuck, I dunno!"

I poked him in the chest, furious. I was rambling, I knew that perfectly fine. I was just so livid my body felt taut with it, like every muscle could just tear itself apart at a moment's notice. "And then...and then – you say that. How the fuck can you do that? That is not fair, not fair at all, you just...argh...fuck-!"

For the next couple minutes I think I just ranted at him angrily, not thinking about a word I was saying. I didn't even remember what I'd said afterwards, I just stood there completely out of breath, staring at him with huge fuming eyes, chest heaving and words all tangled up in my brain and in my throat. My skin felt scorching hot and I wanted to strangle Grimmjow so much I grabbed my hair and almost pulled it out.

He'd watched me all the way through my seething tirade, not speaking, not moving, nothing. Blue eyes still deep and tranquil, he got up and came to me, took my face in his hands and kissed me.

This kiss, it was the type that you don't forget. The type where you can feel them, feel every part of them – their body, their heart, their soul; their desperation and their hope, guilt, frustration, their love. His mouth against mine, his lips tasting like blood, his arms so tightly wrapped around me like he was trying to absorb me into him. So desperate, so longing, I felt like I would fill with his fire and burn up there and then, nothing but blue smoke that would smell like him. That moment, he was mine, and I was his. Everything that I was, it belonged to him.

"I love you."

He kept saying it to me, pressing tiny fluttering kisses against my face, against my neck and my ears, not wanting to let me go for a second. I was powerless.

"I'll come back." Breathless. "I promise, all right? I'll come back, even if it goes wrong. I don't care. I love you."

Before I knew it he was pulling away from me, stepping away, leaving me cold and alone. I reached out blindly, grabbed his arm –

"Don't leave yet."

"I-"

"Grimmjow, I love you too."

His lips parted, he exhaled; I tangled my fingers in thick blue hair, yanked him towards me. It wasn't so much of a kiss as an attempt to imprint the taste of him into my memory, the feel of his skin against mine, the expert way his fingers trailed white-hot lines all over me.

Everything was desperation. That was the one word I would use to describe that kiss. We both knew we wouldn't see each other for a long time, we both knew that what was coming – whatever it was – would be dangerous. I had the feeling that, on that night, a lot of things were going to change. For better or for worse, I didn't know. And now I look back, years later, and I think to myself – damn, I was stupid.

Things did change, beyond recognition; a domino effect. One thing topples over, and everything else follows. What I don't remember is, what started it all? Was it our relationship? Was it Grimmjow's descent into violence and crime and heroin, or was it earlier than that? His shitty childhood, our first meeting – I didn't know. I couldn't think. His smell was like a drug to me, and my blood was singing with it.

"I need to go," Grimmjow growling suddenly, drawing away. "Fuck. I _need_ to go!"

"You better fucking come back."

"I will. I fucking said I would." His big, rough hands were placed gently against the sides of my face. His thumbs traced over my cheekbones.

"If you dare run off and disappear I swear on my mother's grave I will hunt you down and kill you. I swear it."

"I won't," he said, breathless, blue eyes so brilliant and beautiful my heart swelled, full to bursting.

"Then fucking go already." I pushed to him out into the hallway, using my whole body. It was better if I pushed him; it was better that then him pulling away from me. That, I wouldn't be able to stand.

Before I tugged open the front door and threw him outside into the cold, bitter world he slipped his arms around my waist and kissed me again. Something sweet and short, full of promise and hope - full of love.

"I love you." I held him tight, breathing the words into his ear. His hair tickled my nose. I could feel the warmth of his body even through the layers he wore.

"I'll come back," Grimmjow said, "just so I can hear that again."

"I'll say it every day."

It looked like there were lights in his eyes, something bright and feverish. There was nothing he could say to make that second more heart-wrenching or painful, more beautiful or perfect. It was everything. That moment in time; it summed up our whole relationship. I placed my hand on his chest, slid it under his jacket and his shirt, pressed it firm against warm skin.

_There._

His heart, beating furiously like mine. I wanted to think that they were in time with each other, but they probably weren't.

Whatever, I could still dream.

There were no words. There was no need for them. Grimmjow moved forward and kissed me one last time on the lips. I closed my eyes. I didn't open them for a long time afterwards, but by then he had gone.

* * *

**_More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse._ ~ Doug Larson**


	31. my phoenix from the ashes

"_Ichigo, there's a party tonight at Rukia's place. Big one, so that everyone can see each other one last time before we all split up and stuff. You wanna go?"_

"_Oh, I dunno."_

"_Everyone'll be there. Everyone. Like the good old times. C'mon, please?"_

_There was a beseeching light in his eyes, one I could never resist. I felt the corners of my mouth pull up into a tiny smile._

"_Yeah, OK. Why not."_

I shouldn't have agreed. This party sucked. Everyone was too drunk, too high, too whatever. The bass was thumping through my bones and my head was pounding right along with it. I think I was the only sober one there. It wouldn't have been the first time, really.

After about an hour or something I'd had enough. I made my excuses to Renji (he wasn't really listening anyway, he had some girl draped over his lap and his hand was sliding up her skirt) and I left, feeling…strange. Isn't it weird how you can feel so lonely, even when you're surrounded by a ton of people? How does that even work? I don't get it.

Coming out of Rukia's house, I took a moment to step back at look at it from the outside. It was a huge mansion type place, white walls and sculptured gardens. I'd never felt at ease there, everything was too clean and orderly and so _precise._ Basically the opposite of me. Me and Renji, we'd never really liked it there. We just put up with everything for Rukia's sake, even her snotty stuck-up brother - which is easier said than done considering he hated me to the core and barely ever paid attention to Renji. He personified that house; cold, clean, perfect.

I'm not the sort of guy that pays attention to architecture, but that night I guess I was just in a strange mood. The night air seemed softer, seemed to smooth out those sharp angles and that bright white until the house almost glowed. The bushes and trees rustled softly in the breeze and there were night-blooming flowers that gave the air a heavy, sweet smell. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, staring at nothing, and all of a sudden it occurred to me that Grimmjow's family was pretty rich. And that they actually lived nearby. And that I could go there right now, right then, and I could demand that he tell me what the fuck was going on.

Two months is a long time to not see someone. People can completely change in two months. You could die, you could get hooked on drugs. Whatever. Friends can drift apart. You can fall out of love with someone.

I wish I had fallen out of love Grimmjow. I really did. I hated feeling like this, like I was a slave to him. He had my heart in his fist and he was squeezing it slowly, letting the blood drip over his fingers and to the floor.

When I left Rukia's place I kicked the gate shut and almost blew it off its hinges. The rage was simmering slowly in my gut, rising to a boil. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Didn't he trust me? Didn't he want me to know? I was ranting to myself in my head, imagining what I would say to him, what I would scream in his face. I'd punch him too. Right in the fucking gut. Multiple times.

By the time I actually got to his place I was basically frothing with anger, every muscle tight and on edge. My eyes were narrow slits, my hands were bunched into fists in my pockets and I felt like I was ready to explode. If I'd seen Grimmjow then I would've smacked him right across the face, no question about it.

But I didn't see him. I was at his house. There were no lights on. I rang the doorbell, over and over again, but no one answered. After about five minutes of trying to beat his door down I gave up and I slid to the floor and just sat there, staring.

Was he dead?

I didn't want to think it. I didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be true.

The anger disappeared and left a black hole in my chest. He couldn't be dead. Grimmjow couldn't die. He was the strongest person I knew.

_But what if he's dead?_ a little voice in my head whispered to me. _What're ya gonna do now?_

I started shaking. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs and stared at Grimmjow's front door. All the curtains were closed, and I couldn't see inside the house. There was a weird atmosphere around the place, kind of…empty. Like no one lived there anymore.

Oh my god, what if he really was dead?

"Who the fuck're you?"

The voice made me jump up to my feet and whirl around. He'd almost given me a heart attack.

At least, I _thought_ it was a he. It was hard to tell in the dark, the person had blond hair cut to their shoulders and a pretty slim figure for a guy. When they shifted, though, the glow from the streetlights fell across their face. Brown eyes, wide thin mouth, pointy nose and chin. No curves to that face at all, all hard sharp angles.

No, he was definitely a man. A weird-looking one, but a man all right.

"Who am I?" I snapped at him. "More like who the fuck are you? What do you want?"

He grinned at me and his smile almost cracked his face in half. "I ain't wantin' anything. Just wonderin' why some punk kid's on my property, that's all."

"What? Don't be stupid, you don't live here!"

"Is that right?"

"Of course that's right, this is Grimmjow's house! Not yours, whoever you are – " I stopped, glaring at him. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Hirako Shinji, at yer service!" He gave a wide, sweeping bow; when he straightened he cocked his head to the side, staring at me with curiosity. "And you are?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," I said stiffly, nodding my head.

He paused for a moment, then said again, "Is that right?"

"Yeah. Why are you here? This house isn't yours. This is Grimmjow's house. You're not allowed to be here, you're trespassing."

"I ain't the one trespassing, kid. _Yer_ the one not allowed to be here. This house is mine." He was staring at me, so intently it was creepy.

"You've made a mistake," I said, "I've known Grimmjow since we were six years old, he's always lived here. You can't live here too, that's not possible."

Hirako shrugged, sighing. "I don't have time to sit around and argue with ya the whole damn night, kid. Look, you can go and I won't report ya to the police and we can all forget about this."

"Fuck that, I need to see Grimmjow," I snarled. "And since he fucking lives here, I think this is gonna be the first place he'd hang around, right?"

"Well, he ain't here."

"Yes I am."

Me and Hirako both froze.

His voice. Grimmjow's voice. Rough and smooth at the same time, deepened by years of smoking - his growling, low, wonderful voice.

It was the first time that I'd heard it for two months and honestly, I think I fell in love with him all over again in that instant.

Blue eyes, still as madly intense as ever; blue hair, messy and hanging in his eyes; pale, tall, grumpy, lips always curved in a half-sneer – he was there. All of him was there. He wasn't dead. He was standing right in front of me, looking thin and exhausted and extremely pissed off.

I didn't think I breathed for about twenty seconds. I might have almost passed out.

Those blue eyes gazed my way. "What're you doing here, Kurosaki?"

I should have been angry that the first thing he said to me was something so unromantic and accusatory, but I was just so blown away by him actually being present and you know,_ there_, that I didn't really give a shit. My mouth opened and shut a few times before I managed to get something out.

"I wanted to see you," I croaked, staring at him.

Grimmjow scowled, but he wasn't angry. He just seemed resigned. That right there should have rung alarm bells. "You shouldn't have come here."

"I-"

"It's OK," he said. "I…it's finished now anyway. But…we need to talk."

The words made my stomach drop. I only nodded. I couldn't speak; I was still shell-shocked.

"Here," Grimmjow muttered, moving to Hirako and holding out a set of keys. "Everything's there. Front and back door, garage, gate. You already got the code for security?"

"Yeah, I got it," Hirako said, still watching me. "Listen, I don't think this is a good idea –"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'm leaving now." Grimmjow paused, and he shuffled closer to Hirako, shooting me a glance before lowering his voice and mumbling, "And….thanks…for everything. Even…it didn't…"

"It ain't…could see…"

"It's fine…yeah, I get it…"

"Grimmjow," I said, "what's going on?"

A moment of silence just settled over the two of them. No one moved, no one talked; just the sound of the wind and the trees and faraway cars. I glanced between Grimmjow and Hirako: Grimmjow looked angry and uncomfortable while Hirako was checking his watch and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Why did you give him your keys?" I asked Grimmjow.

"I'll explain later," he said, moving to stand beside me. "We gotta go."

"But-"

Grimmjow didn't let me argue. He knew I'd never stop arguing, that I'd never back down, I'd never give up when it came to him. So instead, he just grabbed the back of my head and pulled me forward, crushing my lips against his.

It wasn't a particularly great kiss now that I look back on it. It was more violent than a kiss should be, but at the time I was so desperate for him I didn't care, I put my arms around him and dragged him closer to me. His mouth slid from mine across my cheek, kissed my ear, my neck, and he buried his head in my shoulder, squeezing me tightly. I thought he would crack my ribs.

"I missed you," I mumbled to him. He was shaking. He smelled like sweat, his hair was greasy and lank and it felt like he hadn't shaved in forever. I could feel through his clothes that he'd lost weight. Just what the hell had he been doing these last two months?

"I know," he said back, in a low voice. "You did good. Thanks for waiting."

"I was worried about you too. Thought you were dead."

He squeezed harder. "Ain't dead yet."

"Don't say that."

Grimmjow didn't answer me; he breathed in deeply and rested his head on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and glanced at Hirako, who was staring our way with an eyebrow raised. I didn't like the way he was looking at us.

"Let's leave," I said to Grimmjow, "come on, my place."

He grunted as a reply and I grabbed his hand, pulling him with me. Hirako said nothing; just stood there silently and watched us leave. All the way to my house Grimmjow didn't let go of my hand, and I took the chance to finally get a good look at him. Like I'd first thought; thinner than he used to be, exhausted, shadows under his eyes, hair messy, eyes cast downward. He seemed like a completely different person.

"You look like shit, you know that?"

"Fuck you, Kurosaki." Just that. No smirking or boasting about his stunning good looks. He was just irritated.

I swallowed, my mouth drying up. I wanted to ask him what had happened to him during these last two months, why he looked so tired and hopeless and haunted. I wanted him to explain everything to me, to reveal all his secrets, to finally have an open, healthy relationship. A guy can dream, right?

"Can you tell me what's going on?" I said, in the end, hardly daring to hope.

He glanced at me, then sighed, closing his eyes. "I…well. I guess. Have you been reading the papers, watching the news and stuff?"

"What? No, you know I never do."

"Good."

"Huh? Why?"

"Nothing," he said after a minute, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Nothing happened."

I frowned. "Nothing….?"

"Yeah. Nothing."

"Oh. Is that…good?"

The grin got a little wider. "I guess it is, yeah."

I started to smile too. "So…it's finally over, then? You're…you don't have to work for whatshisname anymore–? "

"Aoyama," Grimmjow said suddenly, "Aoyama…Aoyama Shinobu."

"Your boss?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't sound right-"

"But that's his name," Grimmjow interrupted, "and it's over, you're right, everything's finished. It's all over."

His smile had disappeared. His expression now was dark, angry. My stomach lurched sickeningly. "Grimmjow, what's going on? Fucking tell me!"

Grimmjow glared for a second, clenching his jaw. Then he forced himself to relax. "Let's talk about it later. Look, we're there."

He waited for me to unlock the door, then grabbed my hand and dragged me all the way up to my room; when he got there he dumped his ass on my bed and stuffed his face in my pillow. I stood at the door, crossed my arms, stared at him.

"I'm starting to get really pissed off at you," I said.

He said nothing.

"I'm really, really pissed off at you."

Still nothing.

"Answer me, you stupid asshole!"

Grimmjow finally rolled over onto his side and looked at me. His gaze was scarily calm. He smiled a little.

"You know, I wasn't lying when I told you I loved you."

I closed my eyes. "Can we please not do this."

"And you said you loved me too, right?"

"Grimmjow-"

"Or were you lying, Kurosaki?"

"No!" I exploded, seeing red. I went up to him and poked him hard in the chest. "No, I wasn't fucking lying! Why the fuck would I wait two months without seeing you or hearing a word about you if I didn't? Why else would I put up with all your shit and your issues and your personal baggage? I've saved your fucking life, I've been there at your side almost every second of every day for the last two goddamn fucking years Grimmjow, why the _fuck_ would I do _any_ of that if I wasn't fucking crazily, insanely, stupidly in love with you? _Why?"_

A moment of silence, in which those crazy blue eyes softened just the tiniest amount. Then Grimmjow smirked at me. "That's what I like to see. Thought you'd almost turned into a pussy without me there, you know that?"

"Fuck you!"

"How've you been, anyway?"

The question threw me off. "You…what?"

"You heard me," he said calmly. "What've you been doing since I was away? What happened?"

I sat down beside him heavily, the bed squeaking under me. What had happened in these last two months? Where did I even start?

"I failed all my exams," I told him quietly, "so I can't go to college now. I can't do anything. Um. Renji and Rukia broke up. Ishida and Inoue did too, but that was a long time ago. Renji got signed to a soccer team and he's leaving soon. Chad is going back to live in Mexico. My friend Shuuhei quit law school to be a journalist, and Nel got a job in some big insurance company. Anything else?"

"I didn't ask about your friends," he said. "I asked about you."

"What is there to know? I'm a failure. All my life I thought I was gonna be a doctor and now what? There's nothing left."

"That aint' always a bad thing," Grimmjow said. "New beginning and all that shit. You can…start over. Do what you really want to. You told me you didn't really wanna do medicine, right?"

"Yeah but…what do I do now? I'm not good at anything in particular."

"Bullshit."

"I'm not!" I said irritably. "Name _one_ thing I'm good at."

"Blowjobs."

I glared at him. "Not helping."

Grimmjow shrugged. "You're good a ton of things, Kurosaki. You're smart. You'll be fine."

He lapsed into silence, frowning. His eyes were troubled, deep in thought, and before I could help myself I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He turned to me. We didn't have to say anything, we never did; the feel of his cold hands sliding against my bare skin was as familiar to me as breathing. His mouth on mine, my hands running through his hair, pulling his shirt over his head, unbuttoning his jeans – everything came to me like a dream. I didn't have to tell my body to do anything. Everything moved of its own accord, cogs in a clock, fitting together perfectly and moving like Mother Nature had intended us for this very purpose.

Grimmjow had lost more weight than I'd realized. Lost more muscle tone. I could see his ribs when he breathed in. His skin was sickly and I could see his fingers were stained yellow with tobacco. He must have been smoking more. He always smoked more when he was stressed.

I took one of his hands. Blue eyes gazed at me intently. I kissed the tip of each finger, the knuckles, pressed my lips against his palm and the back of his hand, the inside of his wrist; I dragged my lips over the faded scars where he had injected himself, over the delicate skin of his inner elbow and I heard him breathe in sharply. When I reached his neck, I could feel him shaking.

The light from outside slanted across his face from a strange angle. It outlined his long, straight nose, his thin lips, those incredible eyes. I could have looked into those eyes forever.

"Kurosaki…" Barely a whisper.

"Let's do it."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"I wanna do it," I murmured to him, "I mean, I want to…you know."

"Do what?"

"Have sex." I could feel myself blushing to the tips of my toes. "Go all the way. You know what I mean!"

Grimmjow's expression betrayed no emotion. He closed his eyes and sighed. It was not what I was expecting.

"Later," he said, "we can do that later. You're tired, right?"

"Grimmjow-"

"Sex can wait," he said.

"What? _Wait?_ You've never said that before. You've always pushed me. You've always wanted to do it!"

"I know," he muttered. "You don't have to tell me that, Kurosaki. I know I was an asshole about it. I guess I just learned that there're more important things, all right?"

"You don't…want to?"

"I do want to." He was blazing with intensity all of a sudden, gripping my arms hard enough to bruise. "You have no idea how much I want to, you have no idea how hard it is to say no. I've never wanted anyone so much in my entire life, you know that? I've never felt like this before ever. But if we do it now…trust me. It ain't the right time. We can…" He swallowed, scowling. "We have to wait. It's not right yet. Not yet."

"Then _when_ is right?" I asked.

He didn't answer me right away. He stared out the window, and it struck me that this was the saddest I'd ever seen him in my life.

"I don't want you to hate me," he said in a low voice, tilting his head to the side. Dirty yellow light grazed his eyelashes and turned them gray. He looked ill, in that light. "But I dunno, maybe that would be better for everyone."

I scowled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know, this is the first time I've ever been in love. It's pretty hard to deal with." Grimmjow was talking like I wasn't even there. "I'm not sure I like it so much."

"You're not alone in that," I said, settling down to straddle his lap, running my hands absently over his chest and shoulders.

"It's like I'm your slave."

"Even the tiniest thing gets me upset."

"Kind of like I'm sick, you know?"

"I can't stop thinking about you and it drives me insane. I hate it."

"I hate it too," he said, catching my hands in his own and squeezing them. "Sometimes I really hate you, Kurosaki. Things would've been simpler if you hadn't come along and saved my fucking life."

"You regret it?"

"No," he said. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

* * *

**We can only learn to love by loving. ~ _Iris Murdoch_**

* * *

Kurosaki fell asleep in my arms. Idiot. It was like four in the morning and we were both pretty fucking exhausted, but seeing him – well, I dunno. Of course I was sad.

More than sad. Felt like I was empty inside. I couldn't feel anything, couldn't feel angry or happy or whatever. Everything got sucked into a big black hole in my body and destroyed it. The bad and the good.

His sleeping face never failed to make me feel better though. Kurosaki almost always drooled like a fucking kid in his sleep, wiggled and mumbled and kicked out. The first few nights we'd slept in the same bed at least one of us fell out every few hours. Of course I snored and shit and he used to stuff a pillow over my face to make me shut the fuck up, but the point is, you know, I'd missed it.

I'd missed him. Like someone had taken a limb away. I'd missed his frowning and his dramatics and his ridiculous temper tantrums, the way he'd stare at me so unimpressed if I said something stupid, the way he had no fear of beating some sense into me if I crossed the line. His hair, his eyes; I knew him inside out, the same intimate way he knew me. I knew things about him no one else did, and it was the same for him.

A few years ago, back when I was still fucked in the head, I would've never imagined I could tell all that shit to anyone, let alone him. I'd hated his guts so fucking intensely.

And now look at me, all calm and mature. Not jumping into bar fights at every fucking chance, not shooting up in dirty shitty rooms in rundown apartments. Clean, and with a conscience.

All because of him.

Who'd have thought it?

Kurosaki slept on soundly as I slid out of his bed. I put my clothes on and then I kneeled by his side, reached out to touch him – but I couldn't.

I couldn't touch him now.

Hadn't I said that everything was over?

It felt like Aizen was staring at me, even at that moment. I could feel those brown eyes pierce right through me – brown, the same color as Kurosaki's eyes, but worlds apart. Kurosaki's had life to them, they could spit fire, they could be hard and dark with determination, or they could be warm and golden, like when he laughed, when he crossed his arms behind his head and lay beside me on the grassy hill by the river.

Aizen's eyes were dead. Cold, empty, calculating. The ugliest eyes in the world when you saw past the friendly façade he put up.

The thought of him brought me back to the situation. To what I had to do. To what I _should _have done – namely, break up with Kurosaki. End everything. Release him from me, _free _him, so he go and live his own life.

So that he could forget about me.

A new beginning, like I said. Fresh start. All that jazz.

The only thing I had the balls to do was leave a note. And not even a good one, it didn't explain anything, the one thing I was capable of doing was writing down a single word because my hand was shaking so bad.

_Sorry._

And I was. I was actually sorry. For like, the first time in my life. I was sorry I'd dragged him into my life, sorry that everything had ended in such a pile of shit like it had. I was sorry that I wasn't a better person and that I hadn't made better choices.

I looked at him one last time. Brushed his orange hair away from his forehead, let my hands linger over his skin; I leaned down, I touched my lips to his, and that was it.

The moment I stood back up again I died and was reborn. I wouldn't exist the same as before – Grimmjow was dead. He was dead, dead and never again capable of hurting the one person who had ever told him that they loved him.

_I never walked near the edge_  
_Used to fear falling_  
_I never swam far from shore_  
_Never tried the secret door_

_But when you give me love_  
_When you give me love_

_I have no fear of heights,_  
_No fear of the deep blue sea,_  
_Although it could drown me,_  
_I know it could drown me_

_I didn't wander in the woods_  
_Used to fear the darkness_  
_I didn't like getting deep_  
_I was scared of what I couldn't keep_

_But when you give me love_  
_When you give me love_

_I have no fear of heights,_  
_No fear of the deep blue sea,_  
_Although it could drown me,_  
_I know it could drown me_

_No fear of the fall_  
_No fear if it's with you that I fall_  
_'cause nothing could break us,_  
_No nothing could break us, now._

**_Katie Melua - No Fear Of Heights_**


	32. black hole

**Depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling. People who keep stiff upper lips find that it's damn hard to smile. ~_ Judith Guest_**

* * *

I wake up and he's not there. At first, I'm snoozing - you know, when your alarm clock wakes up but you're too lazy to actually get out of bed and shit, and you just lie there in your own filth wandering between dreams and reality? Yeah, that's what I'm doing. Lying on my back, my whole body was stretched out in a star shape and the sheets were tangled between my legs. I felt strangely cold. My hands swept the length of the bed beside me; I was alone.

The sleepiness started dripping away then. I opened my eyes fully and groaned, felt the sunlight pierce through into my mind. Last night's events came back to me. Grimmjow; his eyes, so tired and dull. His pale skin and his ribs showing when he breathed in. That horrible air of...resignation.

Probably, that was what scared me the most. It made my heart clench in worry. He had been so…unlike himself. The Grimmjow I knew was a smart-mouthed asshole, didn't care what people thought of him, said what he wanted, did what he wanted; he was rude, violent, sadistic, unbelievably aggravating.

Who I had seen yesterday hardly seemed like that person. The person I'd fallen in love with.

That whole change just fueled the fire in my mind, really. More than ever I wanted to know what he had been doing in the two months we had spent apart. With that thought in mind I sat up and yawned, stretching and rubbing my face. I wondered where Grimmjow had even gone. Maybe he was in the bathroom, taking a shower? Or in the kitchen drinking the last of my beer. Probably, though, he was just downstairs watching TV. I thought to myself, yeah, that's probably it. No need to worry.

A weird anxiety was crawling through me, even as I thought that. The look on his face last night. The way he'd been so tired, as if he'd given something up. Picturing it just made me feel a little sick.

But I pushed it away and threw myself into my daily routine. I took a shower and I put on clothes and stuff, as you do. I went downstairs and went into the kitchen. Karin, Yuzu and dad were all there, having breakfast, wailing and whining and being dramatic as per usual. Or at least my dad was.

"Hey guys, have you seen Grimmjow around?" I asked, pouring myself some orange juice.

"Grimmjow?" Karin frowned at me. "Is he even here?"

"You didn't see him? He came over last night."

"Well, he wasn't here when I got up," she said, then got distracted when dad tried to hug her from behind. She grabbed his arm and flipped him over, leaving him sobbing on the floor.

"Good one," I said.

"Thanks."

"Try to bend your knees a little more next time, though. Puts less strain on your back. You sure you didn't see Grimmjow?"

She scowled. "I already told you I didn't, geez! What are you, deaf?"

"Hey, don't talk to me like - Karin!" It was too late: she'd already grabbed her bag and stomped out of the room.

"What's up with her?" I asked Yuzu, who was eating her cereal quietly while dad whimpered about his wounds and how his children were so violent and ill-mannered.

Yuzu shrugged. "I don't know. Do you want the rest of this? I'm not really hungry." She got up and left without another word, leaving me and dad staring after her open-mouthed.

"What is wrong with this house?" I yelled at last, turning on dad. "What did you do, you goat-faced idiot?"

"I didn't do anything!" he cried. Then he cringed and seemed to curl in on himself, whispering to me, "Maybe it's..."

"What?"

"Maybe...it's _that time."_

I kicked him. "What time? The full moon? Are they werewolves or something?"

He shook his head, turning pale. "I mean that time..._lady time..."_

Lady…time? Did he mean...?

"Oh, gross!"

"It's part of adulthood, my son!" Dad yelled at me as I raised my arm to punch him. "Every woman goes through it! Don't forget, your baby sisters are almost sixteen now! Hormones are in full rush, their bodies are changing, hair is growing in strange plaarghhhhhh-"

"Shut UP!"

Yeah I'll admit it, I forgot about Grimmjow for a while. Just the fact that I'd seen him in the flesh yesterday put my mind a little more at ease, and I could sit down and have my breakfast without my mind wandering to him every few minutes. Even the sound of my dad weeping quietly next to me wasn't as annoying as it normally was. I told myself, Grimmjow probably just went back home to freshen up or something. He'll call me later. We'll hang out and he'll explain everything to me later.

Then I remembered that he'd given his house keys to that weird blond-haired guy, and my stomach turned itself inside out at the memory.

"Dad," I said. "You didn't see Grimmjow last night, did you?"

Maybe the fact that I sounded genuinely worried calmed my father down. He actually looked serious for a while.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "But I went to bed pretty early and you know how nothing can wake me up...why? Was he here?"

"Of course he was here, why else would I ask? I was at Rukia's place last night and I was on my way home when I met up with him and we came here for a while. We..." I started blushing at the memory of what I'd asked him. Of what I had wanted to do.

Of what I still wanted to do.

"We talked for a bit," I added in a hurry, "then I fell asleep."

My dad looked at me knowingly. "Talked, huh?"

"Shut up. Did you see him or not?"

"Nope. Didn't hear a peep. Doors were locked and everything."

"Oh." I fell silent. I was frowning extra hard. My insides felt like they were being churned about in a mixer. Maybe I should just go to his place? Would he be there? Why had he given his keys away? I didn't understand...

"Ichigo, look at me."

Dad's voice was bizarrely tender. He was smiling.

"You don't need to worry so much," he said. "I'm here, no matter what happens to you. Understand?"

"Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me. These last two months, you haven't been yourself, we can all see that." He paused, eyebrows creasing slightly as a serious expression took over his face.

"I know you're going through a hard time but you seem to forget that your family and your friends are here to help you deal with everything. Exams, romance, school - everything. You don't ever have to worry about talking to me, or telling me anything. OK?"

Dad reached out, put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. His dark eyes - the eyes Karin and Yuzu had inherited - were gleaming with a whirlwind of pride and love and affection. It had my throat close up, and I scowled even harder so I wouldn't suddenly just lose it there and then.

"I know you lost your mother," Dad said, "but sometimes it seems like you forget you still have a father."

"Shut up." My voice cracked. "That's not fair."

He just looked at me sadly, and I realized then that in these past few years I'd probably spent more time with Grimmjow's father than my own.

Dad must have seen the guilt in my eyes because he smiled again.

"Hey, kid, don't feel bad now. You're still a teenager - you don't need to take the world's weight on your shoulders."

"But who else would worry about him?" It suddenly just came out, a bitter admission that had been coiled up ready to spring. "I feel like sometimes, I'm the only one that cares."

"You're not. His father cares about him, we care about him - Ichigo, he's as much part of this family as you or I. If something, anything, happened to put him in danger, you know we would be right there with you biting our nails and tearing our hair out."

"I don't think he trusts me."

"I think he trusts you more than anyone else on the planet."

I put my head in my hands. My eyes were tearing up and my head hurt. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"I just want him to tell me what's going on. Is that so hard?" Even to myself I sounded pathetic.

"Maybe it is."

"Why?"

My dad didn't speak for a while; he was staring thoughtfully at his cup of coffee. It must have been cold by now.

"Ichigo, you've spent your whole life trying to protect the people you love. Have you ever thought that once in a while, you need to be protected in return?"

"What the hell do I need to be protected from?" I grumbled. "He's the one that worked for a stupid criminal, not me!"

"I'm just putting it out there," he said calmly.

One look at him and I could feel my irritation fade. He was trying. At least he was trying. It was more than I could say.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my head bowed. My ears were burning with shame.

"Don't be. You're a little grumpier than usual today, I get it." Dad got up and emptied his cup of cold coffee into the sink before beginning to wash it. I fidgeted at the table, picking at the skin surrounding my thumbnail.

"Um...dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Er. Well. Thank you. For...you know."

"Anytime." He grinned at me. I smiled back half-heartedly and got up to leave, but just when I was at the door I stopped and turned back to him, hesitating.

"Oh. And. Just..."

"What is it?"

I licked my mouth. I didn't understand why I was so nervous about asking him. "You know when...when I told you? About - me and Grimmjow. You know. Me...c-coming out, I guess."

I hated that phrase.

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you..." Why was my mouth so dry? "Why didn't you get mad? Were you...disgusted, or anything? I thought you would've been, you know, at least a little...shocked."

Silence stretched taut and expectant between us. My dad sat down at the table, gestured for me to join him. When I did, he sighed.

"That's a pretty good question, actually. Well, I guess I'll start from the fact that you two were obviously crazy about each other anyway, even to a blind old man like me-"

"Shut up, we weren't crazy about each other, we didn't even like each other at the start!"

"On the contrary!" Dad exclaimed. "It was obvious to everyone that after a while you two were lovestruck! Infatuated! Madly, deeply, insaaaanely in love-"

"OK I get it, can you carry on with the story now please!" Why did my father have to be so goddamn embarrassing?

"Anyway...yes...so, everyone guessed that you two were...that you two were attracted to each other, I suppose. And before you say anything, it did surprise me, you know - even though you'd never shown any real interest in girls before, I thought you were just a late bloomer. And then this blue-haired punk just exploded into your life and I could tell that you liked him, even though you didn't really want to."

"And then?"

"And then...well, after a few months of these heated lingering looks over the dinner table and you just casually 'hanging out' and 'sleeping over' at his place all the time and doubtless some very interesting dreams at night-"

"Dad!"

"As I was saying, after a few months of you two being cowards I guess one of you finally grew some balls, eh?"

"That would've been me," I said with a smirk.

"That's my boy!"

"You know you haven't answered my question, like, _at all."_

Dad paused. "I haven't?"

"No."

"...What was the question again?"

I resisted the urge to slap him. "Why you weren't disgusted or anything when you found out. Or suspected. Or knew, whatever."

"Ah. Yes!" He cleared his throat, abruptly became serious again. I probably got my temper from him, no wonder I have so many mood swings!

"That actually goes back a while ago," dad said, "to when I was a med student at college. I was maybe a little older than you, I can't remember exactly. And like most other people, I thought that homosexuality was...it was a disease. Something wasn't right with your head, or your body. It was a trick of the mind that could be fixed with the right therapy, the right way of thinking."

"You...really thought that?"

Dad saw the look on my face and his expression become sad. "Look, I know it must...it was pretty disgusting, I agree with that completely. But I won't get into a sociopolitical debate about the prejudices that homosexuals suffered then and still suffer today, all right? Looking back I understand that it was...it was fear, plain and simple. We didn't know what caused it. We thought it could spread. It was seen as something to be hated, so I hated it without even questioning it."

"But then, what...what happened to change your mind?"

"One day when I was an intern, we had a patient." My father's gaze was distant, filmed over with past events playing through his mind like a movie. "He was barely older than sixteen or seventeen. He was in a critical state, stayed in Intensive Care even after ten hours in surgery."

"Why was he-"

"He jumped in front of a train. Both his legs and arms got torn off."

"What? Why?"

"He was trying to kill himself."

My breath caught. Lying on my knees, my hands clenched into fists.

"And then we discovered he had HIV. And that he was gay. And no one wanted to go near him. Not even me."

I had to clench my jaw as hard as I could but it didn't stop my eyes from getting all watery. I just blinked really, really fast.

"We called his family and his friends," dad continued, "but they didn't want to visit. They told us he had been disowned and that even if he lived he would never be welcome in their home again."

"That's..."

"I know."

"Did he live?"

Dad closed his eyes. I'd never seen such a hopeless expression on his face. "Yes. He woke up, eventually. I was the one who told him that his parents weren't going to come and see him. I'll..."

He took a deep breath, wiped at his eyes quickly, before going on in a slightly strangled voice.

"I'll never forget the look on his face. That...utter hopelessness. When you know there's nothing left. Everyone's abandoned you. He didn't even say anything, you know that? He just turned his head and stared to the side and after that he refused to eat. And then, after...afterwards..."

"What?"

"He managed to steal some sleeping pills from the person next to him and we found him dead the next morning."

The buzzing from the fridge sounded almost deafening. I could hear cars outside, honking horns, people shouting, running, laughing. I sat there at my kitchen table, pockmarked and burned from almost twenty years of use, and I stared at my dad as tears slowly ran down his face.

"I told myself then that, if I ever had a son, I would never, ever let him go through the same thing," he said. "I told myself that even if my son loved another man, it was still love, wasn't it? I would never punish my child for loving another person, whether they were a man or woman. Never."

The urge to cry was really building up. I squeezed it back down. I hadn't cried since I was nine - almost ten years. I wasn't going to start now. I had to stay strong.

"So there you have it," dad said quietly. "That's my story."

"I need to see him. I need to see Grimmjow."

"You go and see him, then," he said, and through his tears I could see that fierce pride shine in his eyes, and instantly I knew I felt the same thing.

"I am unbelievably lucky to have you as my dad," I said, and before he could start sobbing for real I got up quickly and ran out of the room, pulled on my shoes and a jacket and wrenched open the door -

Only to find someone blocking my way.

"Kurosaki Ichigo?" he said, arm outstretched to ring the bell.

"Er, yeah, but I'm kind of a hurry here-"

He shook his head. "I'll only take a minute of yer time."

"Seriously, I'm in a hurry!"

"One minute!" he cried and grinned, planting his hand against the wall and trapping me. The sight of his smile, which almost cracked his face in half, was enough to shock me into stillness. He felt kinda familiar.

I scowled at him, ready to shove him out the way. I grabbed his arm and tried to move it, but it didn't budge, not one inch. He was still watching me, smiling. His face was creepy. He was strong as hell.

"I ain't gonna move," he said, in a nasal, accented voice, "till I getta talk to ya."

I dodged under his arm but he caught my collar and dragged me back.

"What the fuck, let me go-!"

"It's about Grimmjow."

It made me shut up. It made me stop, made me stare at him with disbelieving eyes. His wide smile was gone, and now he looked very serious. I swallowed my anxiety and frowned.

"Fine, one minute. Who are you, anyway?"

The guy looked at me with an eyebrow raised. "What the hell? We met yesterday!"

"We did?"

"Yeah! Hirako Shinji, don't ya remember?"

"Obviously not."

"I have something important to tell ya," he said. The way his bangs fell over his face, it shadowed his eyes and made them look almost black. A shudder ran through me involuntarily.

"What is it?" I asked. "I...I don't have much time. I need to see someone, I need to see him-"

Hirako placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I thought he had crushed bone.

The way his voice went, what he said, it made my skin crawl.

"You'll probably need to sit down fer this."

* * *

**They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies. ~ _William Penn_**

* * *

The walk to her house was long and slow. Or it should have been. I didn't notice the distace, or the time. When I rang at the door she didn't answer me and a neighbour had to let me in through the buzzer. One of those intercom things, I don't know, all modern and shit. She lived at the top floor in a tall new apartment block made of bare concrete and ugly grey bricks. So many stairs. I didn't even notice them.

Nel didn't answer the door to her apartment either. She didn't answer the phone, not the house phone nor her cell. I knocked for at least ten minutes until the other person who lived on the same floor let me in using spare keys, once I'd proven I wasn't a burglar or a rapist.

None of the lights were on inside but I knew she was in her bedroom. There was silence, I couldn't hear anything, she wasn't sobbing or screaming or anything like that. But the silence coming from there sounded the loudest.

It was neither messy nor immaculate, her room I mean, but there was clutter: papers, old mugs lying around, stuff like that. She was curled up next to her bed, her head in her hands. All I could see was her mass of hair curling around her fingers.

I'd never really thought about Nel's hair. The color, I mean. I guess you could call it sea green? But it was more frothy, like the colour of freshly-whipped green tea when it's been prepared properly in the ceremony and everything. There's still foam on it and it tastes bitter and sharp, the way tea is supposed to.

Yeah, that's it. Foamy green tea. That's it.

Grimmjow's hair was the color of the sky.

"Nel, if I'd been a murderer I coulda killed you by now."

She just looked up at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swimming in tears, and they streamed down her face. I sat down next to her heavily.

"So they told you too?"

I sounded so normal. Why was that?

"No." Nel's voice was barely a scratch in the air. "They called his mother and she told me. I'm not actually his cousin, Ichigo. Our parents were friends, that's all."

I held back from asking if his mother had been the first person to know, or if Shinji had told me before. Selfishly, I wanted that honor. I wanted it desperately, although I know it wouldn't have made any difference at all whatsoever. It was all I wanted, and I had no idea why.

There was nothing more to say. I knew it all already, and I had a feeling Nel did too. We had nothing to discuss even though we hadn't seen each other for months. There should've been a mountain of questions, her throwing herself on me and covering me in kisses like she usually did. I would've gotten embarrassed and fought her off, blushing, while she made me a drink. We would've sat in the living room with some shitty TV show in the background while she grilled me on school and my family and Grimmjow (of course) and regaled me with stories of her job, her awful co-workers, the guy at the reception who thought it was acceptable to openly stare at her tits instead of her face when he talked to her. We would have _talked._

Normally she would have updated me on all this of her own volition. She would have thrown open the door and laughed with surprise and pleasure to see me after so long.

Everything with Nel is easy. She loves everyone. She's a dream to get along with and, really, she's one of my best friends.

Or at least, she was.

The silence felt like it was throttling us. The longer I stayed silent the more dust collected in my throat. Nel just sat there and let the tears roll down her face.

"How's work?" I asked, finally.

After a while she laughed. It sounded more like she was choking.

"Good," she said.

I opened my mouth to reply, meaning to say something like 'oh that's good' or 'I'm glad to hear that' but instead what came out was: "You know, I feel like a bad person."

She turned to me. "Why?"

"Well," I said, "I'm not even crying."


	33. unraveling

**de·ni·al **_noun_

1. an assertion that something said, believed, alleged, etc., is false

2. refusal to believe a doctrine, theory, or the like.

3. disbelief in the existence or reality of a thing.

4. the refusal to satisfy a claim, request, desire, etc., or the refusal of a person making it.

5. refusal to recognize or acknowledge; a disowning or disavowal:

* * *

"Well?"

Even though it is early morning, the summer heat is already cloying. The stink from the sewers rises in the air and suffocates them all. There is no natural light in the small, bare room; only the glare of flickering light bulbs that are too bright illuminates the unpainted walls, which are discolored and smeared with mold. The only sound is that of water dripping from leaking pipes and the scrape of metal against china.

Sousuke Aizen does not drink his tea. He stirs it. He has been doing so for the last five minutes. His brown eyes gaze with surprisingly placidity at the messenger before him, who is shaking on her knees. She does not speak, instead breathing heavily and holding her side, where a cramp is developing.

"Well?" he repeats. "What's the news?"

"All gone to plan, sir," she pants after a second, not even daring to look at him.

"Is that so."

"Yes, I just ran back from...from the scene. I have...photos. Evidence."

"Show me."

The girl calms herself and swallows, rising to her feet. From a pocket she pulls out a digital camera and presents it to him. He turns it on and stares at the screen, expression unchanging. Finally, the slightest hint of a smile crosses his lips. He gives the camera back to the girl.

"Very well done, Menoli. I trust no one saw you there."

"No sir."

"And you're quite sure Grimmjow is dead?"

"Yes," she says firmly, "I saw the police pull his body out the car. It was his hair. His father was there too. They're dead, as you wished."

Aizen's smile deepens and darkness seeps into his eyes. Menoli cannot bear to look into them. His closeness is overpowering, and she bites her lip and directs her gaze to the bare concrete floor. Her gut burns with anger.

_Stupid Grimmjow,_ she thinks poisonously, _why did he have to ruin everything? This is all his fault. Everything is his fault. Aizen-sama is reduced to this hideous little shithole in the middle of nowhere while he should be in a palace! Oh, even when he's in such a situation he looks so handsome. So kingly. If only he saw me..._

Her eyes flicker upwards, soft, adoring, and she sees him looking at her knowingly. Cheeks reddening, she bows her head once more. She is dismissed less than a second later but she can feel Aizen's stare burning a hole in her back as she leaves the room. Once the door is closed behind her, silence settles once again over the room, and Aizen continues to stir his tea. It has gone cold but he seems not to notice.

"What do we do now, sir?" Ulquiorra's soft voice penetrates the overwhelming quiet.

Aizen surveys his forces. Ulquiorra, Tousen, Gin, Zommari, the others...they were there, with him, at his side. The number of his faithful servants had been reduced but he finds no bitterness in that: weeding had been needed in any case. He only wishes that he had been the one to instigate the process.

The thought of his betrayal starts to simmer in his blood and he finds himself stirring his tea with renewed force. He allows nothing to show on his face. He must remain calm and collected, continue as normal, plan for the future. Of course he had already taken precautions in case of a situation such as this. Every eventuality had to be accounted for. It was due to this foresightedness that he was not dead.

Finally, he stops stirring and looks down at his cup. His eyes narrow.

"Ulquiorra."

"Yes, sir."

"Get me some more tea."

"Of course."

It is brought to him a few minutes later and he sips delicately. His finest, most expensive blend. White tea imported from China. It costs more than what most men earn in a year.

Aizen Sousuke has always been an optimistic man. He finds no reason to be otherwise. And so, the cogs of his brain turn smooth and sharp. He stares at the dregs of his tea.

He fancies that he can see the future. And he smiles.

* * *

Bleeding is the right word.

There were no limits. No constraints. I didn't have any concept of days, weeks, night or day. Time just.

Passed.

I never noticed it. I did my own thing. You know. Routine. Get up, wash, breakfast. Hang out and watch TV for a bit. Help dad in the clinic. Watch more TV. Maybe read. Dinner. Bed.

This, for I don't know how long. Yuzu and Karin, they tell me, it lasted all summer.

I hardly spoke. I barely ate. They say, my eyes were dead. The light inside had gone out.

Whatever. Lights inside eyes.

Bullshit. My head isn't a latern.

That summer. My god, it was so boring.

I had absolutely nothing to do. None of my friends were still in Karakura, almost everyone had moved away or gotten a job or, you know, made something of their life. Renji had his soccer, Rukia and Inoue were at school in another town, Ishida was studying medicine in Tokyo, Chad had moved back to Mexico. And everyone else, they worked in offices.

They made money. They paid taxes. They gave back to the world what they took from it.

Me, I was still a child living with my family. No ambition. No skills. No prospects. Not even a high school diploma.

Who would have thought it?

Kurosaki Ichigo, a burnout.

Waste of space.

Less than nothing.

Sometimes I would just sit at the kitchen table and stare into space for hours. Not even dad attacking me could stop it. I'd just block his attacks and knock him out and sit back down. Stare at the chair that had been Grimmjow's, imagine him there, shoveling food into his mouth like the pig he had been, chewing with it open and full of food, spraying bits of rice and vegetables everywhere.

Fucking pig.

Stupid fucking asshole, getting himself killed like that.

Of all the ways I thought you'd go, Grimmjow, a car crash wasn't really high on the list.

I waited for it, just so you know. For the pain to start piercing into me. For the numbness and shock to wear off.

It never did.

Tears never came either. I expected them, like everyone else.

But my eyes stayed bone dry. No matter how hard I tried, I just could not cry.

The only thing I felt was sickness. Nausea. I couldn't eat without feeling like throwing up.

So I didn't.

Eat, I mean.

What was the point?

It was like talking. I just didn't feel like it anymore. That was that.

Most people don't listen to what you say anyway. I'd always been naturally reserved I guess, not really a chatterbox or whatever, so it wasn't hard for me to just slip into the habit of shrugging or grunting as an answer to everything. I've always been grumpy. I dunno why people expect me to act like I'm not.

Karin kicked me across the house for it, though. I could hear Yuzu crying in the bathroom sometimes. Dad just looked at me, black circles under his eyes. Like mom had died all over again.

Every day I went to her grave. I went to the riverbank where she had been killed. I found myself wandering past Grimmjow's house more and more often. Standing outside and staring in. Willing him to be there. Willing him back to life.

So that was how Shinji and I got to be friends.

First time we met properly he took me by surprise. The bastard is sneaky as hell. Moves quietly as a cat.

"Hey there, Kurosaki Ichigo."

I nearly jumped out my skin. Turned around and saw him behind me, holding some grocery bags, waving his keys at me.

"Could ya get outta the way? Gotta unlock the gate."

I shrugged and moved aside, wondering if he ever stopped smiling. He was so creepy.

"Thanks." He held the door open, hesitating. "Wanna come inside? Hot out. Could getcha some watermelon, if ya want. Fresh from the market."

Without even knowing why, I followed him through the gate. Like he was a magnet pulling me inside.

No. That's wrong. It wasn't him.

It was the house.

Grimmjow's house.

I wanted to see if it had changed.

As soon I stepped inside I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me.

Of course it had changed.

No paintings. No vases. No crystal chandeliers. Everything had gone.

My mouth opened and my voice, when it came out, was rusty from weeks of disuse. I could barely hear myself.

"What happened?"

Hirako raised his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Everything. Grimmjow's..." I cleared my throat. "His things. All the furniture and stuff. What happened to it?"

"Sold," he said, "I think. Auctions and stuff. A lot of it went to his mother. Ton of it was pretty valuable, shame I didn't getta keep some-"

"It wasn't yours to keep," I hissed. The venom in the words surprised even me. Hirako just shrugged.

"Yeah, suppose so. Still want that watermelon?" He grinned at me, juggling his grocery bags. I'd thought he would've been offended at my rudeness but as I've learned, things like that just slide off his skin like water off...a waterproof thing.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

Hirako looked at me expectantly. I nodded.

"Not a big talker are ya, huh."

I shook my head.

"Grumpy lil' fuck too, from what I heard."

A scowl.

"Ha!" That face-splitting grin again. "Yeah, thought so. Ya got quite a rep in this town, ya know that? Delinquent. Rumored gangster. Rough n tough an' all that shit. That true?"

Shrug.

"Man, yer almost as bad as Kensei. Help me with the bags at least, would ya?"

They were heavy as fuck and I almost dislocated my arms carrying them to the kitchen. Again, everything had changed. Even the smell. It used to stink of herbs and spices and cooking in here, it'd been the homeliest and most comforting part of the house.

Now it was sterile and clean. Like a lab. I wanted to drop the bags and run.

But I didn't. I toughed it out and stayed. Hirako served me up some watermelon and in the heavy, overpowering heat I couldn't say no. I actually ate some. Not as much as I would've in the past, though, and after just two slices, I could feel the nausea rising up and I shook my head when he offered me some more.

"Ya sure? Yer lookin' scrawnier than ya did last time I saw ya. Been eatin' right?"

All I could do was glare and hope he got the message: _none of your goddamn business._

"Whoa, cool it there, kid. If looks could kill..." He chuckled.

"Why are you always so fucking cheerful?" My demand sounded pathetic. My voice was so hoarse it was barely there.

"Finally, he talks!" Hirako exclaimed. "Always knew ya had it in ya, kid."

"I'm not a kid. Don't call me that."

"Here, have some more melon!"

"I don't want-"

"It's yer prize!" he cried, practically shoving it down my throat.

"For what!" I yelled, beating him back, "I didn't do anything!"

"Fer finally talking!"

At this I just clammed up and glowered at him. He was undeterred. He just squished the watermelon over my mouth in an effort to get me to eat it, and I ended up with melon juice and seeds all over my clothes.

I tried to punch him. He caught my fist and gripped it iron-tight, smiling all the while.

"Not bad," he said, letting go. "C'mon, try again."

I frowned at him, rubbing my hand. Fuck he was strong.

"Hit me," he grinned.

That grin. Like he didn't have a fucking care in the world. Like nothing was wrong in his life, as if he hadn't turned empty and dead inside.

Hot, furious anger sliced into me like a knife.

I tried to hit him. Oh believe me, I tried. I lunged and punched and kicked and twisted, I used every trick I knew, all my years of training, my karate and my street-fighting experience.

I should have brought him down without a problem. That's ten fucking years of muscle behind my fists.

And yet, it didn't seem to make a difference.

I could hardly touch him.

Hirako Shinji was lightning quick and slippery as an eel. When he hit me I didn't see it and it cracked across me like a whip. Every time I got close enough to land a blow he would dodge out of the way at the last nanosecond and somehow end up behind me.

This guy wasn't even fucking trying. He was grinning hugely all the while. Not a fine blond hair was out of place.

It pissed me off like nothing else had for a long time.

Anger clouds your judgment. Everyone knew that. All my teachers had taught me to fight with a clear head, to meditate, because anger makes you sloppy. Fighting in the heat of the moment makes you lose your technique, it blinds you; one second of distraction can lose you an opening. I knew this stuff like the back of my hand, had it drilled into me since I was a kid. And still, I couldn't help getting angry at this man.

How dare he do this.

How dare he invite me into Grimmjow's home.

Smear watermelon all over my mouth.

How dare he be so strong. Better than me.

How dare he _make me feel._

"Yer good," Hirako said suddenly, taking hold of both my arms. "But."

He twisted them and it felt like they were on fire.

"Yer not good enough."

I dropped to my knees. My eyes were watering from the pain.

"Not yet."

I blinked the tears away and looked into his eyes defiantly.

No way I was gonna give up.

There were a few things I learned that day: Hirako Shinji loved watermelon flavored things. He was one of the strongest men I'd ever met. He never got mad at anything.

And he never. Stopped. Fucking. Smiling.

* * *

"_Ichigo?"_

_The anger and despair in her voice sets me on edge. When Rukia sounds like that, it's never good for anyone. Least of all me._

"_Ichigo, snap out of it. It's been _weeks_. You can't go on like this!"_

She scowls and glowers. Confrontment has never put her off. She's never been afraid of threatening someone to get her way, of being violent so that she's listened to. Rukia's small, but no one's ever noticed her height. What they see is her huge, stormy grey-blue eyes; they see her hands on her hips and her eyebrows dipping down harshly as she scolds them for whatever stupid thing they've done; they see her unwavering determination, her intelligence, her iron will.

Relatively speaking, we don't spend that much time together, but Rukia understands me in a way only a few others do. Like Chad, I never have to speak for her to hear what I'm saying.

The only thing that surrounded me then, though, was a ringing silence. And I could tell that it frightened her.

Every evening, all I did was sit on my bed and stare out the window. I saw blue hemorrhage into a pale green, then indigo; finally black swept the sky, but clouds drifted into view, looking like lumps of cottage cheese stained with ink.

No stars. No moon.

Yuzu brought me food. I hardly ate. Someone called. Before, people used to call all the time, to see how I was holding up, to check on me, offer encouragement. Even people like Shuuhei and Yumichika visited me.

"_Here. You need these. It's been a while since you educated yourself; those pants are so _incredibly_ outdated."_

_Yumi dumps a pile of thick, glossy magazines on my bed. He's unusually uncomfortable, sympathizing with others not being one of his strong points, but he still moves with languid grace and the knowledge that wherever he goes all heads turn his way. I look at what he's brought me. Vogue, Elle, Harper's Bazaar – they fan out before me, at least a year's worth of issues._

"_Didn't have any more use for them," Yumi sniffs, "since I memorized it all anyway. Must be done to keep ahead. Fashion's a cutthroat industry, you know."_

_I vaguely remember that he'd been given an internship at the Issey Miyake fashion house in Tokyo not long ago. I nod at him for thanks and wonder why all my friends are moving to Tokyo. Is it that great a city? _

"_Still not talking then?" Yumi asks. "I understand it's hard. You know, I've always thought grief was quite a beautiful emotion. All that black and those lovely delicate lace veils for mourning. Very chic, very elegant. And black is never not fashionable."_

_You never know if Yumichika's making fun of you or if he's actually serious. Well, _I _never know. This time though, he puts his hand on my shoulder and says quite seriously, "People keep telling me you don't eat and it's true, you look like you've lost a lot of weight. It really brings out your cheekbones. And that haunted look in your eyes – have you ever thought about modeling before, Ichigo?"_

_The normal thing to do would be to get mad. Sensitivity has never been Yumichika's thing._

_But I can't feel anything at all._

_I shake my head. Yumi shrugs and tells me to enjoy my gift, then leaves. I flick through the magazines, feeling the texture of the pages between my fingers. _

_There's usually not much for guys to look at in this sort of thing. This is all women's stuff. I skip through all that and look at the men's clothes but there is nothing. No excitement. No interest._

_These are just clothes._

_Who cares?_

_Clothes won't bring him back._

_I sweep them all to the floor and lay back on the bed. Stare at the ceiling._

_Nothing means anything anymore._

* * *

Renji called then, but never for long, and not very frequently. He was always busy with training. Going out with the team. Getting used to the big city.

He never ran out of excuses.

I didn't talk so soon enough he learned that calling me was useless and stopped bothering. I didn't care. He'd never liked Grimmjow anyway.

Inoue came round with godawful peanut butter-spinach cookies she'd baked herself. They were harder than rocks and I chipped a tooth trying to eat them. Tatsuki came afterwards and forced at least three down my throat. She smacked me around a bit and ordered me to get my act together before cursing me out for worrying Inoue. Chad didn't call, but he wrote me postcards from Mexico.

_Hot outside. Found a stray kitten half-drowned in a sack in the river. He was orange and I named him Ichigo. _

In any other situation I would have smiled. My answer was:

_I am honored. I'm sure he will be worthy of inheriting my legacy. Hope he gets better._

His answer: _He's getting there._ _I met a girl. Her name is Rosa. Her hair is crazy and curly and her skin is the exact color of maple syrup, it makes me hungry. Blue suits her but purple clashes with her green eyes. Weird combination._

_Ah, _I thought, _he's in love._

I could tell without even trying. I wrote back, _Good luck._

_Thanks. Ichigo the Second has made a full recovery. I'm sure Ichigo the First will, too._

I wasn't so sure.

* * *

Hirako Shinji sent me away that first evening bruised, bleeding, limping, cursing like crazy in my head.

I came back the next evening and the result was the same. A few more words, this time. He tried to make me eat again and I refused. We fought. I lost.

He gave me his number and invited me back. Same routine every time. At first it seemed like I never landed a blow but slowly, I noticed that he started breathing a little heavier. He seemed slower to me. I could predict his movements.

Hirako became Shinji, and he started breaking a sweat after a couple of weeks.

A month, and I managed to touch him. Just a simple touch, the back of my hand grazing his cheek.

As soon as this happened he froze. The smile disappeared. That shocked me so much that I stopped, for less than a second, but then-

"Good," he said. "Yer learning."

I shook my head and dropped my fists. "Who the fuck _are _you?"

My voice was still weak, now from shock and fatigue as well as lack of use. Not just anyone could fight like this man could. These last few weeks I'd witnessed a style I'd never seen before. He was so fluid, so fucking effortless; he used my strength against me, and thin as he was, he was flawless in hand-to-hand combat.

The smile came back. "It's been a month now, right? We still ain't really talked to each other. Y'don't know me at all."

"You don't know me either."

Hirako studied me carefully. "No. I guess not."

All of a sudden, I felt exhausted. I sat down heavily on a chair nearby and watched as he poured a glass of water and gulped it down. When he finished he raised it to me.

"Ya want some?"

I nodded.

"Ah sorry, didn't hear anything. Must mean ya don't want any, right?"

I shook my head.

"OK, no water fer you then-"

"No!" I croaked angrily. "Dammit, fine."

"Fine what?"

"Stop smiling!"

"I ain't smilin'," he said innocently while grinning. "Water? Yes, no?"

I took a deep, deep breath. I could feel my temper rising. This man - this aggravating, irritating, intriguing man - was not going to get a rise out of me, no matter what.

"I would like some water," I said hoarsely, "please."

"There. Ain't so hard, is it?"

"I don't not do it cuz it's hard. I do it because..." I had to cough to clear my throat. He was looking at me, curious.

"Because what?"

"Because most of the time it's not worth doing. Hardly anyone listens."

Hirako looked at me intently, handing me a glass full of ice-cold water, clear and delicious. I sipped it, trying not to down it in one like I wanted to. With the amount I ate nowadays eating or drinking anything too quickly made me throw up.

"Yer gettin' thinner."

I glanced at him sharply. "So?"

He sank to the floor and sat with crossed legs, propped up his head with a fist and regarded me with intense eyes. "You know Ichigo, I never told ya, but I'm sorry ya had to hear it from me."

My head dropped. "Hear what?"

I couldn't fool him. He saw right through me. No words needed to be said.

* * *

_"He's dead."_

_Like a gun goes off in my head._

_Everything is numb. My ears are ringing._

_I'm sitting there with my family, dad and Yuzu and Karin, at the dinner table where we've spent almost every evening together our whole lives. Hirako Shinji isn't sitting down._

_This mysterious blond stranger doesn't seem uncomfortable or awkward. I remember thinking, he's kinda creepy. His eyes keep wandering to me._

_When he tells us Grimmjow died this morning in a car crash he doesn't sigh or stumble or stutter. He says it, clear and distinct._

_Like he's used to saying it. _

_There aren't any tears in his eyes. He doesn't look regretful. Why should he? He doesn't know Grimmjow._

_So, how does he know before me?_

_That Grimmjow's dead?_

_Which he's not._

_Dad's face is white and his jaw is slack. Karin's hand is clamped over her mouth and Yuzu's starting to sob. Me, I just sit there and watch Hirako._

_A lifetime passes._

_"Say it again," I tell him. _

_My voice sounds strange. Too calm._

_He blinks. "Huh?"_

_"Tell me again he's dead," I say._

_"Ya...didn't hear the first time?" He's a bit confused. "Want me to repeat it?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Well, he was with his dad," Hirako says slowly, "and they were driving on the highway when they collided with a truck. The driver was tired, been driving for ten hours or more, and he didn't see them until it was too late-"_

_"How do you know this?"_

_"I-"_

_"You don't know Grimmjow. How do you know this?"_

_"Ichi-nii..."_

_"It's a reasonable question, Yuzu. This guy doesn't know Grimmjow's family personally-"_

_"Yes I do," Hirako cuts in smoothly, "I'm their family lawyer."_

_"Bullshit," I snap, standing up. "You're a fucking liar. He's not dead. You're lying. You could be anyone, how the hell can we trust you?"_

_"I get that it's a shock, but it ain't nice to call someone a liar." Hirako's tone is a little cooler. "I'll admit that I ain't known them fer long. Coupla months, maybe. But I got my info straight from the police once they learned there was no next of kin that I knew of. His mother was all the family he had."_

_"Wrong."_

_"Oh yeah?"_

_I can't help hissing at him. "Yeah. We're more his family than that heartless bitch ever was."_

_Everybody except me reels back. I've never sounded so poisonous. _

_"Say it again. I dare you."_

_"He's dead, Ichigo."_

_It's dad. His stricken expression is almost enough to tear me in half._

_Almost._

_"You could say it a million times more," I say, "and it wouldn't make it any more true."_

* * *

**_Part of getting over it is knowing that you will never get over it. _~ Ann Finger**


	34. quixotic irrationality

_I step off the train  
I'm walking down your street again  
And pass your door  
But you don't live there anymore  
It's years since you've been there  
Now you've disappeared somewhere  
Like outer space  
You've found some better place  
And I miss you-  
Like the deserts miss the rain_

_Could you be dead ?  
You always were  
Two steps ahead of everyone  
We'd walk behind  
While you would run  
I look up at your house  
And I can almost hear you  
Shout down to me  
Where I always used to be  
And I miss you-  
Like the deserts miss the rain_

_Back on the train  
I ask  
Why did I come again ?  
Can I confess  
I've been hanging 'round  
Your old address?  
And the years have proved  
To offer nothing  
Since you moved  
You're long gone  
But I can't move on  
And I miss you-  
Like the deserts miss the rain_

**Missing - Everything But The Girl**

* * *

One cloudy gray day I found myself wandering. It happened a lot back then. I would just wake up and hours later my mind would come back to me and I've thoughtlessly trekked all the way across town or halfway up a mountain or some stupid thing like that. My family didn't mind it, I think. At least I'd gotten over the whole not-eating, not-talking thing by then, and I'd put on more weight. Yuzu didn't cry as much and dad didn't overdo his too-bright too-happy everything-is-OK smiles. Karin didn't attempt to beat me out of my depression as often. Things seemed to be settling back down, like ruffled feathers, smoothed over and glossy again.

And fake. On the outside everything was fine. I was fine. I was back to normal being grumpy, frowning and antisocial, back to being that orange haired delinquent that everyone judged on the street. I could see those narrowed eyes and hushed conversations wherever I went, just like I had for most of my life.

In a way, it was kinda comforting. Like, it reminded me that nothing in the world had really changed. People still lived their lives. The world still turned. Everything continued on as before.

Except , now, that didn't work for me. I didn't feel that way. Things felt too tight and constricting here, like my skin didn't stretch over my bones enough. I was too raw and exposed. I might talk and walk and eat like everyone else, but my whole world felt brittle, as though I was walking down a knife edge and getting my feet cut just existing.

Shit, wait, I got distracted. OK, as I was saying, I was wandering around and it was cloudy. Really dark and heavy and oppressive, one of those days where you just know it's gonna rain like hell. I was restless when I woke up in the morning, got up at five and had about twenty pancakes and I was still hungry. Couldn't keep still. Ended up walking for hours, in never ending circles until my feet were on fire.

The thought of laying around in my bedroom like I'd been doing recently made me feel sick, and I don't know when or how my brain turned itself inside out but instead of being sleepy and miserable all the time suddenly I couldn't sit still for more than a few seconds. At all times, I needed to keep myself busy. Keep moving. If I kept moving it meant my memories couldn't catch up with me, I could outrun everything. I could escape the mess I'd become, how weak I'd gotten. The thought of becoming weak, of not being able to protect the people I loved, made rage prickle at my back like a wild animal was clawing at me.

There was never any aim or goal when I went out like that. I just let my feet lead me. That day, they took me to the riverside.

For a few seconds all I could do was stare at it. Same trees. Same grass. The same place me and him had spent so much time together. We'd laughed and talked and fought there, the sun in our eyes and the grass tickling the back of our necks. The sight of that place made my heart want to rip itself into pieces.

This wasn't far from where my mom had died, either.

How much pain can one person take before they snap? I'd always thought I was a tough guy, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe everything I knew about myself was a delusion and I was nothing but a broken, hollowed-out shell.

I sat down where me and him would hang out. Where we talked about our dreams and our childhoods, our favourite foods and the animals we'd be.

_"You seem kinda like a loner, like a…like a polar bear."_

"_A polar bear? The fuck're you talking about?"_

"_Well, you know, polar bears are always on their own. You never see them with other polar bears unless they're horny or something."_

_He took out a cigarette and lit up, eying me with a leer on his face. "Yeah, sounds like me. But I don't look like no fucking polar bear, so try again."_

"_It's not about what you _look_ like, it's about your personality."_

"_I don't have the personality of a polar bear either."_

"_You're being stupid on purpose!" I said, exasperated. "What I'm trying to say is that you're, like, predatory and, uh, solitary, and-"_

_He blew smoke into my face, eyebrow raised. "Fat and furry?"_

"_Sure, that's totally what I meant."_

"_Aw, don't get cranky on me." He ran his fingers through my hair playfully. It was such an intimate gesture and I was frozen solid, but I didn't know if he was aware of it, he kept on sucking in that nicotine-stained smoke and puffing it out at the sky, frowning and thoughtful._

"_Predatory, huh?" he said, considering it. "I like that. But not a polar bear. Smaller. Better-looking, for sure. More like…a big cat. Like…hmm…"_

"_A lion?" I offered._

"_Lions are pack animals, dumbass."_

"_Tiger, then."_

"_They look retarded."_

"_Maybe a leopard or a cheetah. I'll just keep listing all the big cats I know until we get it, shall I?"_

_Grimmjow frowned. "Naw, we're close, but not quite right. I'm not a cheetah, see, 'cause I'm stronger than I am fast. Leopards…the spots are just stupid. Um. What's that other one? The one like a leopard but black? You know, lives in the jungle and shit_."

"_Oh. Panther?"_

_He sat up straight, grinned. "Yeah, that's it. Panther. That's me."_

_I cocked my head at him. "Why?"_

"_Well, 'cuz they're awesome, that's why. And so am I. They're, like, sleek and elegant and deadly…see, it's perfect." He said it like it was obvious, and nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, I'm a panther."_

"_Good for you," I said dryly. "What would I be, out of curiosity?"_

_He looked at me very carefully for a second, then smiled slowly. "I would say a Chihuahua. You know, small and irritating."_

The memory made me shudder, but there was no crying. I'd never shed a tear because of him.

I sat down on the grass, digging my fingers into the damp blades before lying back. It was wet and gross and really uncomfortable but I put up with it anyway. I closed my eyes and pretended he was there with me, his smell wrapping me up like a blanket, his smooth-rough voice purring into my ear.

"The fuck're you doin', Kurosaki?"

A grin spread across my face. When I opened my eyes the clouds had broken, letting blue sky and sunlight streaming down. Everything was hazy with light, soft-focused like a romantic movie. No sound but the gentle rustle of swaying trees and the slow, sweet sound of the river below us.

Grimmjow looked the same. Blue hair messily style, grumpy expression, ripping up grass from the ground because he'd tried to quit smoking _again _and needed to do something with his hands. His blue eyes were clear and sharp. I inhaled.

Even the air smelled like him. I wanted to evaporate, to become part of it.

"Whaddya mean, what am I doing?" I asked him back, shit-eating smile firmly fixed in place. "Just chilling out and minding my own business. You?"

"Had to go away a while. Complicated."

"It's always complicated with you. Lemme guess, your boss?"

His sharp teeth bared in a disdainful sneer, "Stupid pompous piece of shit."

"I thought you'd died," I said.

All sound evaporated. Nothing but a bubble of him and me existed in this world. He just looked at me with his cornflower blue eyes and I swear, _I swear_, every time I looked into them it was like I was falling in love again.

"Nope. Not dead. As you can see." When he smiled like that he looked like a dangerous predator, a shark or a tiger. Not a human. It gave me chills. The good kind.

"Still up and about and being your usual asshole self, then."

"Wouldn't give ya the satisfaction of bein' dead," he sneered. "How would I kick the shit outta your scrawny ass then?"

Fuck, I'd missed him.

I sat up straight and he did the same. The soft light blurred his skin, picked out his perfect features, and I could see a thousand shades of blue in his eyes. His lips were terrifyingly close to mine. I could feel his breath on my skin. My eyes drifted shut.

Before he could kiss me I woke up. It was raining.

Fat cold raindrops hit my like slivers of ice. I was soaked to the bone. The sky was throwing a fit, clouds churning, lighting flashing everywhere; wind sliced through me and it legit stole my breath away. I don't think I've ever been colder in my life.

Later I heard that it had been the worst storm to hit Karakura in a decade. I walked home slowly to an empty house, numb to everything, in a complete daze. The anguish and misery inside was changing into something else, and it wasn't until I stepped inside my room and looked at myself in the mirror that I recognised what it was.

_Fury_.

My anger could have powered a thousand nuclear bombs. I was writhing inside with the feel of it. My skin must have been bubbling, sizzling with the intensity of the fire inside me.

It was lucky I didn't give in to the urge to destroy my whole room. What I did instead was a hundred push-ups, followed by crunches and stretches and a whole lot of other mind-bendingly painful exercises that had my whole body aching for days. I guess you could call it a frenzy of activity fuelled by livid anger.

A lot of it was directed at myself, for being so pathetic. At Shinji, for being so childish and manipulative and sneaky, even though I kinda liked him by then. I was angry at most of my friends too, because it looked like they'd abandoned me.

But most of all, I was angry at Grimmjow, for fucking dying.

How long did I spend in that red haze?

It must have been days. Maybe weeks. My family knew something was up; they must have. They always knew. But I didn't tell them, didn't want to burden them as I'd been doing for so long lately. It made me feel ashamed, to think about how weak I'd gotten. How I'd let them all down.

No more. A page had been turned. Something white-hot burned in my veins. I ate like a madman and put on weight, fought to get stronger and faster and better. Shinji was surprised by my new intense aggression but he rolled with the punches and kept up with me.

Detox, you could call it. Of my life. A fresh start. I threw out most of my old clothes, too bright and gaudy and so self-consciously 'alternative'. I never used Yuzu's girly flowery shampoo again, and I kept forgetting to get my hair cut. I found some of Grimmjow's old clothes: baggy jeans and faded old T-shirts, as well as a worn black leather jacket. They became staples of my wardrobe. For a while I refused to wear anything else. The smell of him faded away eventually, but it didn't matter to me. It was kinda like he was still alive, in a way.

In one of the pockets of the jacket I found a nearly-full packet of cigarettes, a little bit crumpled but still intact. Grimmjow's smell hit me like a punch to the face; cigarettes, cologne, a hint of basil. Memories of his cooking came back to me, like him hand-making bread and pizza because he loved pounding dough with his fists. It was therapeutic, he told me. The steam in a kitchen always calmed him down. I suddenly remembered the way he managed to insert pineapple into almost every meal he made, and no matter how crazy it seemed, everything always turned out delicious.

My fist closed around the packet, crumpling it even more. I looked down, weighing in my hand. He would have smoked these cigarettes, if he was still alive. I'd given him so much shit about it and now when I thought about how much I'd bitched and whined and pestered him about such a stupid thing, the guilt crushed me down.

I stared. All the arguments I'd ever raised about smoking passed through my head in a flash but none of them seemed to matter anymore. You live healthily, you eat well and exercise, take care of yourself in every way possible, and you still die. What was the point?

So I thought to myself, why the hell now. You only live once. Might as well spice it up a bit. Do all the things you were too scared to do before, 'cuz who the hell knew when you'd have a chance to do them again?

I got through the whole packet that night. At first I coughed and hacked and almost threw up from the burning feeling, but after a bit I got used to it, even managed to enjoy the peppery feel of the smoke in my lungs. The next day I bought another pack, the same brand, and I rationed it out over a week.

Soon enough I was smoking two packs of twenty a week. I couldn't stop after that. I didn't want to. A little piece of him that I carried with me always, that I breathed into me, that became part of me.

Dad never mentioned it. Neither did my sisters. They knew I wouldn't listen. They must have all noticed the longer hair, the change in clothes, the stink of cigarettes around me, but they never said a word. I carried on in my quest to become the hero again instead of the damsel, and they accepted it. Our cracked, perfect little world kept revolving.

* * *

"Yer hair's longer," Shinji commented, one evening while we were cooling off in the garden, breathless and sweaty from a day of training.

"Yeah, I know."

He looked me over for a second then said, "It suits ya."

I shrugged. "Thanks. Didn't do it on purpose though, just kept forgetting to cut it."

"Huh. You started smokin' too?"

"Yeah…how did you-?"

"I can smell it."

Of course he could. He had freakishly big nostrils. What a weirdo.

Shinji grinned at me and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from god knows where. I raised an eyebrow, knowing that he didn't smoke. Why did he have cigarettes?

Seeing my confusion Shinji winked at me coyly and I scowled at him, hating the way my heartbeat picked up at the thought of smoking. I'd just run out and I was desperate for a cigarette, but of course he didn't have to know that.

"I don't do this all that much 'cuz it's a terribly, terribly bad habit and I thoroughly disapprove of it," he said conversationally, "but I'mma be a friend and share. Want one?"

Oh god did I want one.

"Sure," I said, trying my best to sound casual. I shuffled closer as he held one up to my lips, and his fingers seemed to linger longer on my skin than was necessary. As he flicked on the lighter I cupped the flame, and his hand covered mine. Our eyes connected. My stomach swooped a little at the look in his knowing brown eyes and I tore my gaze away, taking a drag, struggling to avoid looking at his face again.

We sat there in strained silence as the ash trickled away and the smoke got stolen from our lips by the wind. Shinji was the first to speak.

"So, kid. How's life been for ya lately?"

I took a deep drag, giving myself time to think. These last couple months, how had life been for me?

"Boring as shit," I said, blowing out a plume of silver smoke.

He laughed. "No kiddin'."

"Tried looking for a job but no one'll take me 'cuz I never even graduated high school. Even McDonald's rejected me. Fucking _McDonald's!"_ I scowled furiously. "Can't stand the thought of going back to school, can't get a job, and all my friends're gone and I dunno what to do. I don't even know what I can do."

"Forget that," said Shinji, "Whaddya _want_ to do?"

"_Want_ to do?"

"Well, yeah."

What a pickle. What did I want to do?

It took me a while to reflect on it. Mull it over, if you will. I wanted to do a lot of things, most of which were impossible, but the thing that stood out the most was-

"What I want," I said, "is to get the fuck out of this town."

This town, where I'd been born and brought up, where I'd grown up and fallen in love and had my heart shattered more than once. It locked me in and chained me up. I was itching to leave. The world was bigger than Karakura. Grimmjow had gone travelling all over the world when he'd been a child, and I'd never even left Japan.

That was another thing that was going to change. I refused to be tied up like this. Nothing and no one was ever going to have this much of a hold on me again.

A deep, calm sort of quietness settled over us. Shinji seemed to be thinking, eyebrows pulled down in a pensive expression, while I slowly finished my cigarette. Shinji crushed his out with the heel of his shiny black shoes, while I flicked mine away into the grass. Night was falling and a few stars were beginning to peep out of the darkness. The sky was washed dark blue and indigo, like a bruise.

"You really wanna leave?" asked Shinji.

"More than anything."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Just remembered something a friend mentioned to me. Leaving might be easier than ya think."

My heart rose into my mouth. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. But it wouldn't jus' be this dump you'd leave." He popped a piece of watermelon flavoured bubblegum into his mouth and chewed noisily. "You'd hafta leave Japan. Go to Europe. This thing, it's in England. An internship…"

Job? England? _What?_ "What the hell are you talking about?"

He blew a huge bubble with his gum. It popped wetly and he chewed it a bit more before continuing – "Friend of mine mentioned a few days ago he was lookin' fer some people who spoke Japanese and English to contact him 'cuz he was eh, what was it – seekin' out some translators or somethin'-"

"Translators? Are you serious?"

"Sure am. Interested?"

I shook my head. "You're insane. I don't speak English well enough to do that, there's no way-"

"You told me you got the highest scores outta the whole school fer it."

"Yeah but-"

"And you said you managed to memorise like, five Shakespeare plays or somethin'. In Japanese or English?"

"Well, both, but I didn't-"

"I don't see a problem," he smiled widely at me, that one special grin he had that could crack his face in two.

I growled, fighting to make him see why it was impossible. "How the hell do I pay for it? Nothing's free, the flights would cost me like my house and my family isn't exactly rolling in it-"

"No probs," he said, waving a hand carelessly. "I told him about ya, what a keen and enterprisin' young kid you are and he said he'd be happy to take you on. Flights're paid for, as is accommodation. Like, I said, it's more an internship than anythin' else, you don't get paid any big wage. All ya gotta do is read and sign a contract and it's done."

All I could do was stare at him with my mouth open.

"Once in a lifetime opportunity…" he sing-songed, poking the end of my nose.

He gently shut my mouth. I literally pinched myself, wondering if I was dreaming. England. _England._ The other side of the world. Tea and crumpets. Rain. The Queen. Cucumber sandwiches. Shakespeare. My heart was beating impossibly fast.

"Let me think about it," I said, but really I already knew what my answer was going to be.

* * *

Dad cried when I told him about it. Of course he cried. I basically had to kick him through the wall to shut him up.

Yuzu was just as bad. She clung to me for days, cooked and baked constantly to 'fatten me up' because she knew I couldn't cook worth a damn. She even washed and ironed all my clothes in preparation (including my _socks,_ the crazy girl). Karin just scowled for a bit, sulked and kicked me around before coming round to the idea because, as she put it-

"Better that you're leaving and actually doing something with your life, instead of hanging around here like some loser and moping all the time," she snapped at me once. "The whole house stinks of it."

Had anyone else said that to me I would've hurled them into the sun but I knew that Karin was telling me all this bullshit out of love. So I just settled with a simple, "Shut up, you. Keep goat-face under control for me, will you?"

She smiled proudly. "Got it on lock, Ichi-nii."

"That's my girl." I ruffled her hair and she hit me.

There was no leaving party. All of my friends were too spread out to come visit me, but most of them sent me messages wishing me luck. Inoue, Tatsuki and Rukia actually came round pretty often before I left, as well as Ishida, much to my surprise, and them being there felt…nice. Comfortable. Like things hadn't completely fallen apart in my life. Inoue baked me spinach-coconut-chilli cookies and managed to eat half of one without breaking my teeth.

When they left, though, and I was alone again, I could feel it slipping. The control. The façade. A dull anger seemed to bubble away in my core nowadays, and I could usually restrain it with exercise and physical exertion. But when I was in my room, and memories washed over me, the fire started licking at my self-control and I knew if I didn't start moving again I would snap and break apart.

The one thing that almost undid me was the photos. I was packing my stuff away, stripping my sheets, the night before I left. My suitcases were open and overflowing. I was under my bed, retrieving books and crumpled up bits of paper, when I noticed an envelope just hanging out on the floor next to my bedside table. I took it and pulled out the contents; the first thing I saw was Grimmjow's scowling face and I stopped breathing.

Photos, glossy and unblemished. A few dozen. I flicked through them all. His dad – the ninja photographer. He'd shot all of them, in that brief period where he'd been obsessed with photography. Watching movies, sleeping, taking our shoes off, cooking in the kitchen, talking, fighting, whatever. Everything. He had taken pictures of almost everything me and Grimmjow had done together.

My hands were shaking. I looked so…_happy._

Those ever-present embers inside my chest reared up in flames again, as if someone had thrown gas on a fire. I almost ripped the photos apart. I desperately wanted to

Fate was a damn bitch. What a _bitch_. Just as I'm getting myself under control she throws me under a bus again and expects me to keep walking. Things start to shake and shatter and I'll lose myself again. I'll be weak again.

No.

Not going to happen.

I couldn't stand looking at my face. My eyes were bright and shining in every one of those damn pictures. I would never be that happy again and it disgusted me. I couldn't stand it.

Bright idea. My lighter was always with me. I took it out and flicked it on; a small, yellow flame licked at the glossy paper. I did it all carefully, so that nothing but a charred hole was left of my face.

Grimmjow was still there, though. Sleepy, scowling, murderous; you never saw his whole face but he was there, perfect, captured on film forever.

There was one photo I couldn't bring myself to destroy completely. Him and me, the light cloudy and indistinct, me sitting on his bed and him kneeling before me. I was holding his hands in mine and our heads were bowed together. We weren't looking at each other but I could feel it, the desperate passion and the love, seeping out from every pore.

_"Grimmjow."_

_He looked up, at me. "Yeah?"_

_"C'mere." I sat up, legs swinging over the side of the bed. He walked over slowly and I took the waistband of his jeans when he was close enough, pulled him down until his face was level with mine._

_"What is it?" His blue eyes, they were so beautiful. I felt something swelling up inside my chest, almost squeezing everything else out. I took his head in my hands and kissed him, putting everything I had into it. My whole body, my soul, my heart._

_I could feel him smiling against my lips and it made me smile, and I thought, this would be a pretty good time to die, I don't think I'll ever be this happy again…_

_"I told you last night, didn't I? I'm gonna tell all my friends soon."_

_"Yeah, I remember."_

_"Everyone needs to know how happy you make me."_

_He breathed in sharply, the angry look from before fading away. I looked at him very seriously. "I know that sounded corny as fuck. But I'm not kidding."_

_"Shut up. Moron. You always say the most retarded things," Grimmjow muttered, ducking his head. But I could see that his ears were pink and that he was smiling just a tiny bit, and I couldn't help doing the same._

_There was something else I wanted to say to him. Something bigger, more important. Some words that I know would change everything. I opened my mouth to say them, but he looked into my eyes and his smile got just a little wider and I thought, what if he doesn't want to hear it? What if he doesn't feel __that__ way?_

_So I closed my mouth and smiled back, and leaned down to kiss him because somehow I thought that would make me feel better._

_This time, there was no flash. His dad had learned his lesson. We didn't know the picture had been taken until the door clicked shut and we heard the giggles from outside. By then, though, Grimmjow had given up. He just swore loudly and hung his head in abject shame, and I couldn't help but laugh._

I touched the photo to my lips and folded it in half before sliding it into the inside pocket of my coat, next to my heart. I put the other ones back in the envelope and packed them with the rest of my stuff. When I was finished, Dad helped me to bring the suitcases downstairs. They stood beside the front door, ready to leave with me to London the next morning.

We ate our last dinner together in silence. That night, Karin and Yuzu slept on the floor with me in my room, lying on a pile of mattresses we'd thrown together. Yuzu cried the whole night. Karin just clung to me like a limpet. There was no way I could sleep so I just lay there on my back, feeling the tears, their arms around me, and I knew they must have felt my heart beat rapidly in a mixture of excitement and terror.

My room was white and empty. Stripped of all history and personality, it could have belonged to anyone; a bare, blank page, ready to be written on. I was no longer there, in spirit even if not in person. One of my sisters would get this room; I had already left it.

It came to me that my life was like this room, a long white page stretched out in front of me, empty, full of potential. I could write or draw or doodle whatever I wanted. The pristine whiteness shined and stretched away to infinite lengths before me. Anything could happen. Anything was possible.

I'd never felt freer.

This was really happening. I was leaving. Leaving Karakura, my town, my family, my friends, everything I'd ever known. Leaving behind eighteen years of pain and love, and the shadow of someone whose blue eyes I knew would haunt my soul forever.


	35. termination of the contract

The sun filtered through the trees in a pearly sheet. Dust floated in front of his eyes. Due to the heat, the square was virtually deserted and he seemed to be the only one there, sitting on a rickety iron chair at a table in front of a small, abandoned cafe. Though he stayed under the shade of a large tree his clothes were sticking to his skin, and he could feel moisture drip unpleasantly down his back. As far as he knew he had been the only customer that whole day; everyone else had wisely chosen to stay inside instead of braving the heat. He himself would have chosen to sleep away the hottest part of the day but this had unfortunately been the time chosen in advance for the meeting.

He didn't know who would turn up. He didn't know what they would look like. Hirako had only said that he would 'know when it happened', and the the memory of that exasperating man and his casual evasiveness caused irritation to ripple in waves under his skin.

Lips curled back into a slight snarl. He smothered it immediately. There were things he'd had to change: mannerisms, the tone of his voice, his body language, not to mention his looks. Short cropped hair dyed a chestnut brown and contact lenses, sometimes brown and sometimes a toned-down blue, in order to make him fit in with other, 'normal' people.

And his name. His _name._

It wasn't until he'd changed it that Grimmjow realized that he had actually been quite fond of his name. 'Grimmjow Jaegerjacques' was rough. Abrasive. Hard to understand. It fit him to a T, and now that he switched between other, more common names, he found himself chafing underneath them. Their normality, their blandness, their lack of anything close to what he identified as.

But that had all gone now. Everything was gone. Grimmjow Jaegerjacques was dead, and an impostor had taken his place.

Anger stirred in his gut. He quelled it forcefully, downing the last of his iced coffee and feeling sweat trickle down his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, eyes searching the empty square. There was no one, and he sighed. Nothing but a dirty white fountain trickling pathetically.

He tipped the edge of his hat over his eyes to shade them from the burning sun. The heat made his scalp itch but his roots were growing out and he didn't want anyone to notice that his natural hair color was _blue_, of all things. An appointment with his most trusted hair stylist – his father – was overdue.

The sound of soft footsteps drawing closer had him opening dark brown eyes, slitted against the light. A figure was approaching him. He stiffened, and couldn't help a small sneer scrape across his teeth.

Brown hair, brown eyes. Not pale but not especially tanned, either. Average height, average looks, dressed in a suit that hundreds if not thousands of other men were also sporting, this person was nothing out of the ordinary. He would meld seamlessly into a crowd, slip in and out of houses and hotels and countries with no one any the wiser. Completely innocuous. Innocent.

Closer and closer. With every step dust rose. There had been no rain for days.

"Excuse me, sir. Would you happen to have a light?"

The stranger smiled apologetically. Even up close, he was completely forgettable.

"No," a gruff voice answered him. "Don't smoke."

"I see." A pause. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed in the shade with you for a moment, would you? It's so warm outside."

The man's German was smooth and perfect, with no accent that hinted towards a region of origin. A chair was pulled back before an answer was spoken, and the stranger pulled out an old pack of cards from his back pocket, spreading them out in a fan shape on the small wrought iron table.

"May I ask your name, sir?"

A slight, hesitant pause. His name...was it safe...? "Leon. Leon Muller."

Such a common name. Easily slipped from the mind; hard to trace.

The stranger smiled. "Very nice to meet you, Leon. My name is Paul."

"Of course." There was a hint of sarcasm. "So...Paul. What brings you here?"

The smile did not fade. "I was hoping you would ask that. Pick a card, please."

There were no questions asked. Scowling Grimmjow took one of the proffered cards and laid it face up against the table; though it was old and battered, through the dirt one could see that it depicted a man riding a chariot led by horses.

Paul smiled broadly. "Ah, yes. I'm not surprised you would receive this. The chariot - it represents perseverance, a journey, a rushed decision, adversity, turmoil, vengeance. Very fitting. Adversely, however, it can also mean defeat and failure. I would be careful if I were you."

"What sort of mystic bullshit is this?" The other man growled. "I'm not here to play games."

"Hush. All will be revealed. Another card, if you will."

Grimmjow checked his frustration and did as he was told several times over, uneasy under the gaze of this stranger. He barely listened as the meanings to his chosen tarot cards were recited, his hands clenched around the edge of the table. He was hard put not to leap at the other man there and then and beat the information out of him, but even as Grimmjow listened Paul's slow smooth voice changed in intensity as he leaned forward, deft hands shuffling and flipping the cards as easy as breathing.

"You'll be glad to know that your friend, though he's not been trapped yet, is in hiding. Those who abandoned him have been let off with a light slap to the wrist. The majority have changed their names and moved abroad, but a few remain." Paul's voice was low, confidential. "All is going smoothly. He is in no position to hunt. For now, you're safe."

Abruptly, a cloud covered the sun. The temperature dropped. A waiter stopped by and asked if they desired anything more. 'Paul' was silent, but Grimmjow – he always thought of himself as Grimmjow, even now, even though it was risking his life to do so – ordered an expresso.

He licked his lips, which suddenly felt dry and cracked to the point of bleeding. "And...what about him?"

Paul cocked his head and fluidly gathered up the cards into a single pile with what seemed like one movement. "I don't understand. Who are you talking about?"

"You know fine fucking well _who._ Enough with the mind games." It came out in a low growl.

His only answer was a slight smile. A cool breeze picked up, and the trees rustled.

"He's safe. No need to worry."

That was it. No elaboration. The waiter came back and placed a small expresso cup on the table, was paid, and left. Silence stretched between the two men before Grimmjow coughed discreetly, or as discreetly as he could manage. Paul smiled, understanding the signal.

"I shall of course leave you now, sir. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for the directions, I can't believe I'm so far away from my destination. Have a good day." He rose and bowed slightly, before turning and walking away.

But-

"Ah...Mr. Muller."

"What?"

"I would watch your temper if I were you." Eyes locked with his, froze him in place. "There are some things about ourselves we don't want to change. But you don't have that choice. Anger reveals the true self, and that you cannot afford. Goodbye."

Paul nodded and walked away. Grimmjow stared after him, face expressionless as the words sank in, swallowing heavily. He watched until the stranger was gone, no longer anything but a memory. Thoughts tumbled messily in his head, wired and electric. His jaw clenched and he stood up suddenly, scraping the chair back.

Hands stuffed in his pockets he walked away, hat tipped over his eyes. His heart felt heavy, as if made of lead, weighing in his chest like a deadweight. His eyes burned - from tears or irritation from the contacts, he didn't know. He was thinking about one thing and one thing only, one person, the one man he had given up everything for.

There was still a picture, in his wallet, hidden and slightly crumpled. Him and Ichigo, both grinning wildly into the camera, the sun lighting up their eyes like stars. His most precious possession, he never took it out but it was good to know that it was there. That Ichigo was still there, and the last few years hadn't been a beautiful hallucination. There had been so many moments of pain, frustration, ecstasy. That, he would never regret. He would never regret Ichigo.

Lost in his thoughts and drowning in memories, Grimmjow left the square and disappeared into the orange-scented air, long legs eating up the distance. Soon there was no sign that he had ever been there.

Lavender clouds gathered in the air, as if the sky was blushing with its skin blue. Nothing but the soft murmur of trees, the faraway sounds of families in their homes, the buzz of cars and motorcycles. And in the summer heat, wisps of steam danced into the air as a cup of coffee sat upon a table, forgotten.


End file.
